558Charlus took a deep breath as he braced himself for what he was about to do. Fifteen years, and he had never been able to let go of this case. It was personal. It had always been personal. And he'd never forgiven himself for failing to do his job when it had mattered most.
He knocked on the door of the office he now rarely set foot in, the gulf between them now so wide that all they managed was civility. And even that was sometimes a stretch.
"Enter!" A gruff voice called impatiently. Charlus watched as the mask slid over his oldest friend's face at the sight of him and barely bit back a wince.
"Director Potter, what can I do for you?" Moody barked.
"Alastor," Charlus began softly, not sure he had the words now he was here.
"Spit it out, man! Not all of us get to sit behind a desk, some of us have actual work to do."
Charlus gathered his courage, "You're needed at St Mungos, Alastor."
Alastor looked back at him with a frown, clearly running through his Aurors and their whereabouts. "Why?" he asked finally, coming up with nothing.
Charlus gulped, "Merlin, Alastor. A girl. A girl came in, found on the streets…I…we were called because of…because of the way she looked." Alastor froze, so Charlus rushed on, "The Healers ran a heritage test, the girl had nothing on her, not even her wand. She's…It's Catriona."
Alastor was out of his seat quicker than Charlus could blink, "Take me there." he commanded, "Now!"
Charlus nodded, placing a hand on the other man's arm, wondering how much he should say, "Alastor. We have no idea where she's been, she's not conscious but…you need to prepare yourself. She's…skeletal, she's obviously been tortured, cruciatus if the aftershocks are anything to go by, she has scars…some of them dark magic, some not. I…she's not well Alastor."
"I don't give a fuck," Alastor growled, whirling to face his daughter's godfather. "Take me there now or so help me I'll fucking make you."
Charlus nodded, giving in, "We can floo from my office." he sighed, hoping that the other man had taken some of what he said in and was preparing himself. It had been all he could do not to break down at the sight of her starved and battered body, Merlin only knew what it would do to her father.
They walked briskly down the St Mungo's corridors to the wing just off spell damage where the Aurors traditionally went. "We're here to see Miss Moody," Charlus announced looking at the reception witch.
"Wait here," she commanded, sending a memo out, presumably to a Healer. Half an hour later, just as Alastor was beginning to refuse to be placated, a frazzled-looking Healer appeared in front of him.
"Miss Moody's family?" she asked, not looking up from the chart in her hand.
"Yes," Charlus interjected before Alastor could speak and insult the witch they'd both been working with for years.
"Come with me." She commanded, finally looking at them before leading them into a nondescript office.
"This is not my daughter's room." Alastor protested, looking like he was going to leave and begin searching for the girl himself.
"No," the Healer agreed. "Miss Moody is…currently stable, although she wasn't ten minutes ago." Both Charlus and Alastor paled, "I need to know if you have any idea what happened to your daughter, Auror Moody?"
"You know we don't, Williams," Alastor growled, "Catriona went missing the same night my wife was murdered. It was fifteen years ago! I have no idea who took her, and I have no idea where she's been! Now stop bloody talking and take me to her!"
"Auror Moody!" Healer Williams barked as Alastor stood abruptly, well used to the man's mood swings. "Your daughter is currently lucky to be alive. Merlin knows the witch is testing all of our knowledge. Now you will answer my questions to the best of your ability and I suggest we all send a prayer to Lady Magic that she survives the night." Charlus barely got Alastor into the seat as he swayed on his feet, all of the colour draining from his face rapidly.
"Is it that bad?" He asked softly.
"Yes, Director Potter, it is." The Healer gentled her tone, "She is severely malnourished and she has clearly been living outwith society for some time. To be blunt, her clothing was filthy and almost worn through. She has been tortured for a prolonged period, if I had to guess, I'd say probably more than once. She has a healed cursed wound running the length of her torso and a fresh cursed wound on her neck and arm. She has several broken bones, several cuts of a non-magical nature and her magic is severely depleted. I am astounded that the witch is alive, quite frankly. Perhaps she is as stubborn as her father, although Merlin help us all, if she is she might actually survive this. Now, is there anything you can tell me that might help?" To his shame, all Charlus could do was shake his head. The Healer slumped, sighing, "Very well. I will take you to her, then."
Charlus kept his arm threaded under Alastor's arm as they followed the healer into Catriona's room. He was glad of his foresight when Alastors legs nearly buckled at the sight of the girl on the bed.
The healer gave a sympathetic smile as she conjured a chair, moving it under him. "Will she wake?" Alastor rasped, his eyes glued to the bed.
"We don't know." Healer Williams confessed softly, "We hope so. We're doing everything we can but we just don't know. And if she does…you know what prolonged cruciatus exposure does, Auror Moody." Although her tone was gentle, Alastor flinched like he'd been struck before he began to sob.
Barely holding himself together, Charlus sent a Patronus to his wife. He had no idea what to do with this. He wasn't equipped. Not when the sight of his goddaughter made him want to join her father and give in to the grief. No person should look like that. What the hell had happened to her?
"I'll leave you with her. Please let us know if something changes, however minute. Someone will be around in an hour to check on her."
Charlus nodded, not really seeing the healer as she left, moving cautiously towards the bed. Up close she looked worse, although he was grateful someone had clearly cast a scourgify since he'd last seen her, even if no one had braved tackling her hair. She had Ailsa's hair, he realised, she had Ailsa's everything. Scanning the girl's gaunt face he couldn't see a hint of her father in her at all.
"She looks like Ailsa." he voiced softly, hoping that Alastor would get himself under control shortly. He'd be mortified he'd shown such weakness and usually, that was when he lashed out. He couldn't handle Alastor's temper now, terrified he'd forbid him access to his goddaughter after they'd all waited so long to have her back.
Although, perhaps it was better this way. After her disappearance and Ailsa's death, he had been stoic. Cold, closed off, ruthless and stoic. Dorea had complained it wasn't healthy. And she was more than likely right but nothing they had tried to bring him back to them had worked. He had thrown himself into his work and cut them out.
"Does she?" Alastor croaked, standing shakily as he advanced towards the bed, dragging the chair behind him. "So she does." he breathed, something like wonder on his face as he reached a hand out to stroke down her sunken cheek.
"She's going to wake up," Charlus declared, in a fit of impulsiveness, desperately needing to believe it to be true. "She's yours. She's bound to be stubborn. She is going to wake up."
Alastor dragged his eyes from his daughter's face, the haunted look in them making Charlus wince. "Don't make promises you can't keep," he whispered, as he took Catriona's hand in his, terrified that if he wasn't touching her she'd disappear again.
Dorea chose that moment to rush in, her face going deathly pale at the sight of the girl on the bed. "Oh my," she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth as if she could physically hold in the sob that tore from her throat. "Oh Gods, what…what happened? Where was she?"
"We don't know," Charlus sighed, moving to guide his wife into a chair on the opposite side of the bed from Alastor. "We won't know anything until she wakes up."
"If she wakes up," Alastor corrected harshly.
" When ," Charlus growled. "When not if."
"You don't know that," he whispered.
Five days, it had been five days and still, Alastor had not moved from Catriona's bedside. He sat, his face utterly blank through the cruciatus aftershocks, the seemingly endless rounds of potions and the constant interference of hospital staff. And when they left him, he spoke, he told her how he had met her mother, how excited they'd been when they'd found out about the pregnancy, the utter awe he had felt when the Healer had handed her to him, all tiny and pink and cross. She'd had his scowl, he told her. And as he spoke, he began to brush out her hair, telling her of all the times he'd had to do this for her mother, trying not to cringe at the matted mess as he slowly worked her curls free.
"I've brought dinner, Alastor," Dorea offered softly, entering the room and taking the hairbrush from his hands. "Eat. I'll brush."
He nodded sharply, grateful for her presence but not able to find the words to express it. As he ate, Dorea picked up the narrative, her voice low and soothing as she tackled the last remaining mats, telling Catriona bout her hellion of a nephew and his friend that her sister-in-law had taken in, she told her about their exploits and their friends, reminding her that her own Alexander was well of age now but that he'd been so very glad to hear of her return. She told stories of a tiny Catriona and Alex, that almost made Alastor smile, six years her senior, the boy had been besotted by the baby and had insisted on carting her about like a doll whenever anyone turned their backs.
Charlus joined them as the light began to dim, pulling up a chair as Dorea finally declared the girl's hair tug-free, sweeping her wand over it until it pulled itself into two tight braids. "I'll keep it from matting again," she offered by way of explanation at Alastor's frown.
"Is there any news?" Charlus asked softly, unwilling to break the bubble they'd found themselves in.
"No. The aftershocks are less severe, she's dropped two potions. Still on eight mind you, but perhaps we should be grateful for small mercies."
Charlus hummed, his eyes going slightly wide as her hand twitched, unsure whether it was the miracle they'd been hoping for or the beginnings of another seizure. He hardly dared breathe as Catriona's hands fisted in the sheets and her body tensed. Beside him, Dorea grabbed his hand, watching the girl intently.
"Catriona." She ventured softly, seeing Alastor's frozen face. "Catriona, darling can you hear me?"
The girl's eyes opened slowly, none of them daring to breathe as they darted around the room.
"Cat…Catriona?" Alastor whispered.
The girl's eyes snapped to his going wide with shock. "Not…not Catriona…I…I…you're dead." she drew in a sharp breath, her eyes darting wildly "Oh gods. You're dead…I…I'm in St Mungos…I… I…she broke me." she let out a sob as she managed to sit up, drawing her knees to her chest, "Oh god, oh god, she broke me."
"It's alright, darling," Dorea soothed, her face pale as she contemplated the sobbing girl. "Can you tell us your name?"
"It's not real, it's not real. None of it is real. Oh, my gods. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't. Need Harry, need Harry, need to help Harry. We didn't take it. We didn't. We didn't. We didn't. Won't tell. Won't tell you anything. Not real. None of it's real."
"Get a healer, " Dorea barked at Charlus as she began hyperventilating.
Seconds later the Healer was in the room, administering potions that made the girl slump.
"What did you give her!" Alastor demanded, his eyes wide.
"Calming draught. Sleeping draught and a muscle relaxant."
"When will they wear off?" he asked with something close to despair.
"Tomorrow morning. Auror Moody, I have no idea what happened to your daughter but believe it or not, this was a good sign."
"She thought I was dead!" he barked.
"So I was told. But she also recognised where she was and she was talking. It is a good sign. What else did she say?"
"She mentioned a Harry." Dorea replied slowly, clutching Charlus' hand so hard he had to fight his wince, "She mentioned someone breaking her. I imagine given that she was tortured, she feared for her mind. And she mentioned not taking something."
The healer hummed, "Interesting. I wonder if this Harry and whatever she was accused of taking were the reason she was tortured in the first place. It would certainly explain her reaction. Auror Moody, your daughter will not wake before morning. Please go home and sleep."
"No," he growled, his hand twitching where he held Catriona's.
The healer sighed, "Auror Moody, your daughter is still incredibly poorly, and she is going to need you to be able to care for her. You cannot do that if you are exhausted."
Glaring at the witch he transfigured his chair into a chaise. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic," the witch replied drily. "Stubborn idiot."
"We'll go, Alastor," Dorea spoke softly once the Healer had left, her face still pale. "But…if you'd like, we'll come back in the morning?"
Alastor hesitated, "Please" he replied finally.
Dorea nodded, squeezing his shoulder as they left.
They arrived back early the next morning, both Dorea and Charlus nervous about what they'd find in their goddaughter's room; neither of them had slept well. She was still sleeping when they arrived, Alastor watching her closely.
"Did you sleep at all?"
Slowly he shook his head, making Dorea sigh as they settled in to wait on her waking up. Two hours later, Catriona began to stir.
"Get a Healer," Dorea commanded softly, nudging Charlus from his seat. Silently he complied, praying to whatever god might be listening that she reacted better than she had yesterday. They arrived back just as she was opening her eyes.
"Ah Miss Moody." The Healer greeted the startled girl cheerfully.
"Granger." she croaked.
The Healer frowned, "Pardon?"
"My name is Hermione Granger."
"Ah. We'll then Miss Granger, perhaps you'd indulge me, can you tell me what day it is?"
Slowly the girl shook her head, "May sometime, I think. We definitely left Bill and Fleur's in early May. I don't know the exact date."
"What about the year then, Miss Granger?" the healer prompted, the frown growing more pronounced on her face.
"Nineteen ninety-eight."
Dorea couldn't contain the gasp if she'd tried. The girl's eyes swung towards her and went impossibly wide. "No." she gasped."NO! I.. what is this? What have you done to me?"
"Miss Granger!" The Healer called frantically as the girl scrambled up the bed, pupils blown wide with fear. "Please leave!" the healer commanded, as Dorea practically bolted from the room.
"Miss Granger, Miss Granger, I need you to calm down!" The healer pleaded, moving quickly towards her. "I do not want to have to administer another calming draught!"
"Not taking anything, not taking anything. None of this is real. It's not real."
"Can…can you tell me who that was, Miss Granger?" She asked softly, praying to all the gods that the question got through.
"Bellatrix Lestrange, " Hermione sobbed, her arms wrapped tightly around her frail body.
"No, Miss Granger. That was Dorea Potter. I believe Madam Lestrange is her great-niece."
Hermione's eyes flew up. "What?" She croaked.
"Miss Granger. It is nineteen seventy-seven. You were found on Diagon Alley with no possessions and no wand."
Hermione blinked, "Prove it." she whispered.
"If you'll give me a moment." The healer nodded.
"She's telling the truth, lass." A gruff voice came from beside her.
Hermione whimpered, "I don't know what's real." she whispered, "You're dead."
"Not yet, lass." Moody corrected gently, "Although plenty have tried. Who gets me in the end?"
Hermione froze, "I…we didn't know. Dung apparated when he shouldn't have…and you… I don't know if you fell or were killed on your broom." she whispered. "Bill and Remus looked but they couldn't find you."
Moody hummed, "Bill and Remus?"
Hermione frowned at him, "Bill Weasley and Remus Lupin."
"Ah. Do you know them well?"
Hermione hesitated, wondering why of all people, she'd conjure Mad-eye in her madness before deciding to humour her delusions. If she was mad it could hardly hurt. At least she had company. "Remus was my defence Professor in third year and eventually…a mentor of sorts I suppose. Bill is my best friend's eldest brother."
"And Harry?"
He noticed the way she tensed, "He was my brother, or as close to one as I ever had," she said finally.
"And this Harry, did he have a family name?"
"Potter," she whispered. "Harry James Potter."
"Jamie's lad?" Alastor queried like his heart wasn't threatening to hammer out of his chest. None of this should be possible. It didn't make sense. But there was a Remus Lupin, he knew. The boy was friends with James Potter, there was also a Bill Weasley but he was only six. It made no sense to pair those names together.
"Yes." she agreed.
He nodded, "What about Bill's siblings, did you know them too?" he prodded, wondering if she'd get it right.
She shrugged, "Charlie was mainly in Romania. I only met him a few times, it was hard to get him to leave the dragons." she smiled slightly, "I knew Percy well though, and the twins. And of course, Ron was my best friend and Ginny was one of my only female ones."
Alastor blinked, "That's a lot of redheads," he muttered as it hit him that she wasn't wrong about there being a Charlie and a Percy Weasley. Were twins next? Was it really possible the girl was from the nineties like she claimed? The thought alone made his head spin. "What about this Harry, what was his family like?" he tried instead.
"Dead," she whispered, "All dead. He got Sirius for less than two years. It was cruel. "
Alastor froze, "All dead?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"I see," he murmured. "I…I'm not good at this, lass. There are some things you should know." Hermione hummed, humouring him. "I was married once, did you know that?"
She frowned, having not expected that, "Yes," she replied slowly, "I...I remember Sirius talking about it once. Your wife died, didn't she?"
"Yes." he agreed. "I had a daughter too."
"Oh. I didn't know that. I…I'm sorry, did she…"
"Die with my wife?" he supplied. "We thought so."
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Auror Moody."
He winced at her address, "Aye well…as I said. We thought the lass had died. But…" he paused, "I have no idea what happened to you but I hope one day you'll trust me enough to tell me. From your injuries and your reaction to your Aunt Dorea, I gather it wasn't pleasant."
"Aunt Dorea?" Hermione frowned.
"Aye, your godmother. They did a heritage test when you first arrived, that's why I'm here." Hermione stared back at him, trying to make sense of his words. "And if you'd like them to repeat it with you watching, I understand. But it showed you were my lass. My Catriona."
"That's…that's not possible, Auror Moody." She whispered.
"It shouldn't be." he agreed, "And I'm not sure how it is. But…the test disna lie, lass. And Merlin do you look like my Ailsa."
"Ah Miss Granger," the healer bustled back in handing her a prophet. "I'll cast a Tempus charm now," Hermione watched her closely as she did so, struggling to comprehend the results. It seemed far-fetched, even if she was mad.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"To be truthful, Miss Granger, neither do we. What happened before you woke up here?"
"I…I was…being interrogated," she whispered.
"Ah, by who?"
"Bellatrix Lestrange."
Moody went rigid, understanding her reaction to Dorea now. "I see." the healer hummed. "I..perhaps this is one for Croaker?"
Moody nodded slowly, "Probably." he agreed.
"I'll arrange it," the Healer replied briskly, "Miss Granger, we will need to keep you here for another few days. After that, you can go home as long as you continue to take your potions. I can only imagine how strange this must be, but you'll be in good hands with Professor Croaker and really, this is far more his speciality than mine."
"I...Who is Professor Croaker?"
"Oh, Head of the Unspeakables. If you've been…displaced, he's the man you want."
"You mean you can send me back?"
Alastor made an involuntary sound of distress. "I have no idea." the Healer replied gently. "Professor Croaker will have the answers. Now, your godparents are anxious to be reacquainted, if you'll permit them entry?"
Hermione nodded slowly, her head whirling as she attempted to corral her thoughts into some sort of order. Could you be ordered and mad, she wondered idly.
The door opened to reveal a woman who on closer inspection was softer looking than Bellatrix; her colouring was a shade or two lighter, with her was a man who looked remarkably similar to Harry.
"It's nice to see you awake, darling." the woman, Dorea, smiled hesitantly, clearly unsure of her welcome.
"Have I…been asleep long? No one said."
"Six days,"
"Oh."
"It's fine. It gave us a chance to tackle that hair. Merlin but I remember Ailsa complaining about hers. She never could get it to behave."
Hermione smiled wryly. "Sounds about right," she agreed softly, touching her plaits. "Thank you…I…I can't quite imagine what a mess it must have been."
"Well, your father started it, darling. I just helped."
Hermione swung her head to look at Moody with wide eyes, he shrugged slightly, "My Ailsa taught me how to manage her hair from the moment we knew you were a lass."
"Oh," she replied, utterly unsure of what to say.
"How are you feeling?" Charlus asked into the silence.
Hermione stared back at the man, wondering how similar Harry would have looked to him at the same age, unable to work out their connection. "Sore," she replied finally, "Confused."
He hummed, "I imagine that's to be expected. Do…do you know where you've been?" he asked hesitantly.
"She came from ninety-eight." Alastor cut in when he saw she had no idea how to answer, "The Healers calling in Croaker."
"Good Gods." Charlus exclaimed, "I..did you know us?"
She shook her head, "I..knew Mad-eye….sort of."
"Mad-eye?" Alastor asked in surprise.
She winced, registering his two perfectly normal eyes for the first time. "I ah…you had a magical eye," she said finally, "It could see through things like doors and desks and we think invisibility cloaks."
Alastor nodded, looking surprised, "Useful." he replied lightly.
"How did you know him?" Dorea asked gently, praying to whoever might be listening that Saul would have answers for them.
"He…he was a member of the Order."
"You know about the Order?" Charlus asked sharply.
"It was sort of hard to miss seeing as I spent a summer living in Headquarters," she replied wryly.
"The war is still ongoing in your time?" Dorea asked, sounding horrified.
"Yes…sort of. There'll be a lull. I…" she paused, frowning. "If…if this is real. If I'm not insane…maybe…maybe it doesn't have to happen."
"The lull?
She hummed, "And the deaths. So many deaths."
Charlus and Alastor looked at her shrewdly, "You'd want to help?" Alastor asked finally.
She shrugged, "I've been fighting this war since I was twelve."
"Twelve?" Dorea asked, sounding strangled.
"Occupational hazard of being friends with the Chosen one," she muttered.
"I don't think I quite understand," Dorea replied faintly.
"Me either," Hermione agreed. "I…how do I know this is real?"
"If it wasn't, would you conjure us?" Charlus asked.
"I...I don't know," Hermione frowned, "Maybe? I…it doesn't really make sense but then…you do look like Harry but you're not Harry and…how exactly does one predict what an insane mind conjures?"
Charlus blinked at her for a moment, as Alastor hid his laugh behind a cough "I ah…I suppose you don't." He agreed finally, "But..who exactly is Harry?
"Harry Potter," she whispered.
"I must confess I don't know any Harrys,"
She hummed, "If my mind's made it 1977 then I guess you won't. He won't be born for another three years."
"I see," Charlus nodded as if that made perfect sense, "And ah…his parents?"
"Oh…James and Lily."
"The violent redhead gives in to my nephew?" Charlus asked, startled.
"Eventually." she agreed. "Soon, I imagine. Seventh year."
"Ah well, I can't wait to tell Monty that one, he was beginning to despair of the boy ever settling down. Now, why don't we work on the premise that you're sane and that this is real and take it from there?"
"Because if I'm not sane, I don't want to give them any of our secrets," she whispered, looking haunted again, "I won't. I won't. I won't tell you anything! I wont!"
"Alright, lass," Alastor soothed, shooting Charlus a glare, " We're not asking. It's alright.
"It's not!" she shouted, "How can it be alright if I can't even trust myself!"
All of them flinched. "Is there…is there anything we can do to convince you?" Dorea asked gently.
"I don't know," she whispered, almost slumping in defeat, her mind whirling as she attempted to work out what was real and what wasn't.