Lost in a Memory

Arabella awoke after a restless night. She had spent most of the night either awake puzzling over the dream or dreaming the dream; consequently, she was now rather cranky. It was still reasonably early- only 7.30- but she was aware that there was little point in her trying to get anymore sleep. She tossed back the patchwork cover on her bed, and slowly moved her legs to the edge of the bed, feeling for her slippers as her feet touched the floor. She found them lying under a rather disgruntled cat, who had obviously been kicked off the bed while her owner had been tossing around in the night.

Walking over to the window, Arabella drew back the yellowing curtains, (which had once been a beautiful crisp white with little flowers printed on them) and pushed open the window onto another stifling day. It was going to be another scorcher. She could see the family across the road packing up their car with picnic baskets, inflatables, towels and everything else for a day at the beach.

Well, I'm glad I'm not going, she thought as she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Stuck in a car for several hours crawling to a beach, only to finally arrive late afternoon to find the seafront packed. A quick paddle in the sea and then it's time to get back in the car to snake back home in a long line of cars.

Her day was unlikely to be much better though. She didn't know what was expected of her today, except that she should remain vigilant; all she'd had was one short owl from Dumbledore giving little away (well, the owl wasn't short, just the note it carried). She picked it up off the side, where she had abandoned it the night before:

My dear Arabella,

I feel that I will be unable to pay you a visit tonight to discuss the events of earlier this evening. I trust you understand and will excuse my absence. I have spent a good deal of this evening in talks at the Ministry, and it is my belief that, for the present at least, Harry is safe, and still a Hogwarts pupil. I hope to find time tomorrow to call on you and discuss things further. Needless to say, please remain vigilant until such a time that I am able to inform you that Harry has been removed to HQ.

Yours faithfully,

Albus.

Arabella tossed the note back onto the side. It gave no more away in the fresh light of day and seemed more distant and formal than normal; it was as if he had some knowledge that she had a right to. She gave it little more thought though as at that moment the cat flap in the kitchen door erupted and three of her four cats flew into the house and commenced rubbing around her legs. This meant it was breakfast time and so she toddled about preparing food for both them and herself.

*

Mid morning, Arabella popped out for a quick inspection of Privet Drive and the surrounding area. She wasn't surprised to discover that Harry was nowhere to be seen; she'd presumed that the Dursleys wouldn't have taken too kindly to the events of last night. The poor boy would likely be locked in his room. It wouldn't be much fun on a day as sticky as this.

In many ways, Arabella was relieved that he wasn't about. Even if he'd been put to work in the garden then he'd probably have spotted her and bombarded her with questions. She knew she couldn't answer them, and in the mood she was in, she would have been likely to snap at him.

As she wandered back home, her mood lifted slightly. A gentle breeze was blowing, and it made the day slightly more bearable. It also gave her other things to think about and enjoy, rather than focusing on The Dream. That's what she had decided to name it until such a time came that she would be able to refer to it more precisely.

She focused on the smells in the air- someone baking, and that sweet summer scent that travels in the air when it's hot. She focused on the sounds- leaves gently brushing together, the occasional squeals of children, and the sound of a drill. She focused on the sights- the imaginary sight of water evaporating ahead of her, and the dancing patterns the shadows of leaves created. She focused on the feel of the things around her- the roughness of the brick wall as she ran her hand along it the way she'd seen children do, the feel of the hot pavement beneath her slippers, and the change in temperature as she entered the dappled shade of trees.

Her revelling in the simple things took her back to her doorstep. She scrabbled in her pockets for her keys, and once found, sorted through the bundle to find the right one. As she raised her hand to the lock, the door was tugged open. Arabella jumped, all her senses on alert as her eyes adjusted from the brightness outside to the dim hallway. She breathed a sigh of relief as the person inside her house revealed themselves.

Albus Dumbledore stood, with a twinkle in his eye, smiling genially at her. He looked tired but satisfied, as if he'd been a participant in a long discussion but things had turned out in his favour. He wore a long, midnight blue cloak and held in one hand a white paper bag that looked to be bulging with sweets.

"Sherbet lemon?" He enquired, smiling broadly and tilting the hand holding the paper bag towards her.

"I'll give you sherbet lemon, Albus! Get inside before the neighbours see you, they think I'm strange enough as it is, without them seeing a strange man, in strange clothes, opening my own front door to me! Thank you." She took one of the proffered sweets and hustled him inside as forcibly as she dared. "You gave me a right fright, could've been anyone, and here I am a Squib. I'm about as able to protect myself as a cat is not to chase after pixies!"

"Arabella, Arabella," Dumbledore soothed, holding up his hands in a soothing gesture; although it did cross his mind that it was a good protection gesture too, having seen the bruising on Mundungus. "Everything's alright, it was only me. No one knows about you. Well, those in the Order do, but no one else; not even the Ministry of Magic have a record of you, as you're a Squib."

"You're right, as always. Shall I put the kettle on or will you have to be off soon?"

"No, no you have my undivided attention, or rather I'll be hoping for yours. I won't have a cup of tea though, thank you all the same, I've just made myself one. I must say you have some fine tea. Unfortunately, at the castle we don't get such quality. The house-elves do insist that they make it best with tea bags."

"I see, been making yourself at home then!" Arabella called from the kitchen, where she was busy making herself a brew. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Only ten minutes or so, I presumed you were out for a little walk, checking up on things. It was pleasant just to take my time. I've been rushing about a bit since yesterday evening." Dumbledore replied, squashing himself back into one of the slightly threadbare armchairs and shifting about making himself properly comfortable.

"Oh yes, that Mundungus, I hope he fully explained the situation to you. I expressly told him not to go, that it was imperative to Harry's safety and well being that he stayed, in case anything happened but he wouldn't listen to me." Arabella stormed into the living room, sloshing her mug of tea over the carpet in her haste. "Argh, he just shirks his responsibility and look what happens. You're sitting here looking as if you have hardly slept, Harry is sitting locked in his room with a million questions buzzing around in his head, the Order are having to change plans so Harry can go there quicker, and me..." She trailed off, not sure quite how to broach the subject and even if it was the time to do so. She had questions she wanted to ask, questions she was sure the man sitting before her would be able to answer, but somehow, despite him being an old friend, she felt it a bit inappropriate.

"Well, Arabella, you know very well that he is a highly useful source. I myself am not inclined to lurk around in rather shady pubs and areas, where tongues can sometimes be freer than expected and useful information can be overheard by flapping ears. I don't believe that you, or any other Order members, are predisposed to doing that either. If any of us tried we'd stick out like the proverbial salamander in a dark room!" Dumbledore said with a little smile, carefully sidestepping Arabella's hesitation. He wasn't going to force her into speaking about what was on her mind; she had to be prepared to broach the subject with him herself.

"Yes, yes, I know you're right. He just rubs me up the wrong way!"

"As he seems to do to several people, especially Molly Weasley. Her rant about him this morning was impressive, even for her."

"Highly sensible woman. Anyway, I'm sure we don't have all day to spend discussing Mundungus. What happened last night? Is Harry alright?" Arabella enquired, as she settled herself on the sofa, having wiped around her cup with a tissue and placed it on the slightly rickety little table between the sofa and the chair in which Dumbledore was seated.

"Quite true, we do not have all day. I do have an Order meeting later to discuss the removal of Harry to Grimmauld Place, and there are things we need to discuss before then. I presume you got my owl last night?"

"Yes, however I feel the owl was more splendid than the note."

"I apologise for the note, however it had been a trying evening and I had much more to do, so there was only time to write a few lines."

"I understand, I'm just a bit crabby this morning. I didn't sleep too well last night." Arabella said, softening her tone that had bristled a little when the note was mentioned.

"The effect of the Dementors, I'm sure neither Harry nor his cousin will have had an easy night. Talking of Dementors, I do not fully understand why they appeared here. They remain fully loyal to the Ministry; if they were actually working for Voldemort, I don't think he would have let them attack yet. It would be too much of a risk, exposing his hand early, while I think he is still unprepared. I fear the attack had nothing to do with him."

"Have you no idea? I automatically presumed that they had suddenly turned against the Ministry."

"I do have my suspicions. Sadly, they are nothing more than that at the moment, and I'm unlikely to be able to find out any more with my removal from the Wizengamot. I fear this year will be more difficult and this is somehow connected to it. I will not go into any further detail at the moment, except to tell you that I don't expect a repeat of last night's events."

"I don't exactly understand, but, knowing you Albus, that is precisely that point."

Dumbledore gave a smiled and took another gulp of his tea, which was rapidly beginning to cool.

"Well, as I said in my owl last night, Harry has not been expelled. I'm sure he is not very happy at the moment but he is safe. However, he is going to have to face a disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August." Dumbledore informed her solemnly, the smile had left his face without a trace.

"Oh dear, I suppose there wasn't much chance of him avoiding one considering past events, but oh dear."

"Quite, I will of course go along as witness for the defence, but I fear it will not be as simple as it should be. Naturally, it should just be a hearing in the presence of Amelia Bones, but I don't think Cornelius will permit that. I doubt that he will be very forthcoming with information, so we have to be prepared for the unexpected."

"We?" Arabella gulped, hoping that he was talking about Harry and himself and not encompassing her in that statement.

"Naturally. You and I need to get on with preparations, I'm sure Harry has no idea what to expect. It is a lot better if he doesn't find out, he'll be concerned enough as it is without worry about petty vendettas run by the Ministry and principally the Minister of Magic, just because that Minister is too blind, too scared, too stubborn and thinks too much of himself to believe the truth." Dumbledore had risen from his seat during this tirade, and begun to pace the room, his voice taking on a dangerous, shuddery quality. Now, he inhaled deeply to calm himself, before resuming his seated position.

"Honestly, it was only a few years ago that Fudge wanted your seal of approval every time he did something, be it signing a paper or deciding whether to have his coffee black or white!" Arabella's indignant voice rang around the room. "Poor Harry will have no idea who to trust. His own people turning against him."

"Precisely, Harry has had to learn a lot of tough lessons. He may appear to most of the wizarding world to be almost a fully grown man, having survived Voldemort's attack and more besides; however, it is for us to remember that is not the case. He is still a mere child with much more to learn, although I'm sure he wouldn't like to be described in that way." Dumbledore took a few seconds to reflect on this, imagining the faces of many of his students if he addressed them as children. "Anyway, back to the original point. I will require your assistance. If Harry is to get off this charge, and be under no illusion, he must be found innocent, then he will need the evidence of someone who was there."

"That lump of a cousin?" Arabella suggested, although she had a feeling what was coming.

"No, from the accounts that reach my ears, he is rather inarticulate and I'm not sure that his family would welcome magic infiltrating their lives more than it already does."

"I'm sure you are right there. The day the Dursleys embrace the magical community is the day that I become an Animagus."

"Um, quite," Dumbledore said, slightly forced, as if this statement made him slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, I've never so much as transfigured a teabag, so there's little chance of that happening."

"Precisely, and it's also a case that as a Muggle he would have been unable to actually see the Dementors. I sincerely doubt that anyone would believe the word of a Muggle that there were Dementors there without them having seen them, even if the Dursley boy could describe the effect. This, my dear Arabella, is where you come in."

"Yes? What use am I? I didn't actually witness the attack, I knew what it was but by the time I reached the alleyway, Harry had used his Patronus and they were gone."

"Sadly, yes that is the case, however no one else need know that. I am not one to condone lying, but be that as it may, this case is an exception. In reality you are not truly lying. The Dementors were there, you know they were there, so you saying that they were there will just sound more concrete."

"But ... but ... I've never seen them. Not that I don't want to help you, and of course Harry, but I just don't see how I can."

"I am fully aware of that. You surely don't think that I would ask this of you without offering to help you prepare?" Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in her direction.

"No, no. I just panicked. It's so long since I've actually ventured into the wizarding community properly. It doesn't really count attending occasional Order meetings. I've not been to Diagon Alley since you moved me in here, it's such a trek up there and just to be looked down on by so many, either with disgust or some sort of frightened sympathy. Now, to venture into the Ministry, where there are so many brilliant wizarding folk, it's daunting."

"I understand, and I'm sure you are aware that I wouldn't ask this of you if there was any other alternative. I know the memories must be awful."

"I know," answered Arabella, shuddering. "You know Dumbledore, there's something I've got to ask you, if you don't mind."

Dumbledore realised that this was the point she was going to ask the questions that were going to put him in a rather awkward position. He adjusted his half moon spectacles, and nodded his consent.

"Well, the Dementors, they are meant to make you relive your worst memories?"

"Yes, they suck out all your happy memories, feeding off them and leaving you with what's left."

"Well, then, is it possible to relive moments that you can't remember, that aren't memories? Surely, you would know what your worst memories are?"

"In some exceptional cases, it is possible. There are usually reasons for it, such as a scene that the mind has repressed and the Dementors bring it to the surface. If that is the case, then you would relive the whole of that moment, perhaps finding out things about yourself that you didn't know." Dumbledore sighed, acknowledging inside his head that this was unlikely to provide a satisfactory exposition for her. This wouldn't explain why she had seen what she had. If he was right, she wouldn't have seen a whole scene, in fact he was fairly sure she hadn't otherwise she would not be as composed as she was.

"I see," Arabella paused, the lines on her face crinkling even more in thought. "What about when you only see fragments- what does that mean?"

"I'm afraid this conversation is going to have to keep for another time," Dumbledore replied, slightly hurriedly, glancing at the golden watch with twelve hands he withdrew from his pocket. "Thank you ever so much for the tea. I shall drop by tomorrow and we'll make a start on preparations for the case." He rose elegantly from his seat.

"Oh," said Arabella, a little flustered. "I shall see you then. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?"

"Perhaps noting down what you remember feeling yesterday would be a good start. Not any memories, just what you felt. I shall be off then. Goodbye" There was a very quiet pop and he was gone.

"Good afternoon," Arabella spoke to the empty space where Dumbledore had stood. She had a feeling that he had left rather prematurely. She was sure he did in fact have some place to be, but she also got the feeling that he was avoiding something. What annoyed her, and rattled her cage even more, was that she had no idea what that something was, only that it had something to do with the memories.