Remember All

These were awfully nice men to offer her a place to sleep for the night, even if it were a terribly rough room. Goodness, the mattress was just a big bag stuffed with straw. She always had a nicer bed at her house, and a luxurious one at school, before she’d been expelled. Well, they were traveling cheap, they’d said, so they couldn’t afford to give her much.

As a matter of fact, she didn’t even get the mattress to herself! There was another person in here with her, they had already been sleeping splayed over the mattress when Sparrow had been shown in. They hadn’t woken at all at the sound of the creaking hinges, or the light entering the room, or Sparrow saying "hello", so there was nothing for Sparrow to do but lay back against the bag, head up against the sleeping figure’s legs, and try to drift off.

Eventually, though, the figure on the mattress stirred, grumbling as they slowly woke, shifting about and jostling Sparrow into wakefulness. Sparrow sat up and turned to regard the figure, who was sitting up in turn. For all that her night vision was active, the room was lit only by moonlight from a barred window high above, so it was difficult for Sparrow to see the figure clearly. Only that they were short and stout, bearing a long braid draped over their shoulder. Some young lass. Sparrow cleared her throat. "You alright then? Did I wake you?"

The figure coughed. "It’s fine, you’re good. You...sound really familiar, though. Feel like I’ve heard your voice before. Who are you?"

"Sparrow Jones. You sound pretty familiar too, actually, you sound a lot like a friend I knew. Hang on, let me get a light." Sparrow shook her sleeve to produce her wand, but nothing came out. "Bugger, I’ve lost my wand somewhere." The thought made her queasy for some reason.

"Let me try," said the figure. They shook their own sleeve. "Dagnabbit, my wand is missing too! I don’t know what happened."

Sparrow laughed. "That accent of yours sure sounds like my old friend! You must have met. Small world, I suppose. Here, maybe the moon will help." Sparrow rummaged in her pocket, her fingers brushing over an odd wooden ball, before she produced a hand mirror. She moved to the moonlight and, catching it in the mirror, directed it at the figure.

Lighting up a face that very much resembled her old friend Cormac’s. The greatest difference was the long braid, ears that sported gleaming golden earrings, and a significant amount of scars across the face. "Goodness," said Sparrow, "he never once mentioned a sister. What’s your name?"

"I don’t...have a sister," said the figure. "I’ve got cousins, but no siblings. What the hell do I look like that you would think I’m my sister?"

"Wait," said Sparrow, "do you mean –"

The figure grabbed the mirror out of Sparrow’s hand and got close to the moonlight, holding the mirror at an angle that it could catch enough light to reflect their face. Their eyes grew wide, and their face split into a grin. "Oh hot dang, this a hell of a look!" They frowned. "Not a clue how this happened, though. I don’t remember our hosts dollin’ me up or nothin’. Well they sure didn’t – where did all my cosmetic illusions go? That’s annoying."

Sparrow chuckled in disbelief. "Cormac, it’s really you?"

"Sparrow," said Cormac, "it’s really you." He threw his arms around Sparrow, hugging her tight. "What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in school!"

Sparrow was inclined to ask the very same question of Cormac. But what she was thinking about most, in this moment, was how Cormac’s embrace resembled Jill’s, in those moments when Sparrow and Jill would have to bid each other goodbye at the end of the school year, and most especially when they would come back together when they returned to Hogwarts. Until this moment Sparrow could not have said there were any embraces quite like Jill’s.

And yet there were other embraces, weren’t there? There were those of Jocasta Carrow, not often as fierce, but nearly as frequent, and frequently tender –

Wait a minute. She hated the Carrow girl. The girl was nothing but pranks. Where did the hugs come from? Sparrow shook her head, trying to rid of herself of confusion, and failing. Cormac’s embrace faltered. He released Sparrow, and looked at her with concern. "Sparrow? What’s wrong?"

"Well there’s a few things wrong," said Sparrow. "Neither of us knows why the other is here, for example."

"I could get out and check," said Cormac. "Might as well ask our hosts about details of further travel, I’ve quite forgotten what the plan was." He turned to the door.

As he rattled the handle, Sparrow brought her thoughts of Jocasta to the front of her mind again. She hated the girl, that was certain. Well, not exactly hated, there was a certain charm in how Jocasta seemed dedicated to pranking Sparrow specifically. Almost like the girl couldn’t really leave her. And then there was that time she held Sparrow tight and – and kissed her?

What the hell?

And now that Sparrow was thinking about it, there were lots of kisses in her memory, and more than half of them were not remotely chaste. Sparrow’s face fairly burned. She almost didn’t hear Cormac cursing. She was brought out of her embarrassing thoughts by the sound of something heavily striking wood and metal rattling. She jumped, turning to see Cormac drawing his foot back to kick the door again. "Sorry?" said Sparrow. "What’s wrong?"

"The door’s locked," growled Cormac. "If it was for our safety you’d think they’d put the lock on the inside or give us a key or something." He looked around at the shadows. "Maybe they gave us a key and I forgot about it?" He held up the mirror to the moonlight, tilting it at all angles to direct light around the room.

Yet all the light revealed was bare stone, the straw-filled mattress, and –

Manacles on chains, bolted to the wall.

Sparrow began to have a vague idea of what this room really was. But she was distracted by other memories surfacing, which were even more difficult to make sense of than the idea of Jocasta Carrow kissing Sparrow. Because they weren’t even from her perspective. They couldn’t be, because they involved being on the other side of interactions with her. How Jill felt safe and stable for the first time in years when she hugged Sparrow their third day of First year; how eerie the near-silence in Jocasta’s head felt when she hung around Sparrow for long enough; how eager someone named Wren was to show off the Wireless to Sparrow –

"So what’s going on here then?" said Cormac, shoving the mirror in his pocket and folding his arms. "Are we actually imprisoned, or is this just an unfortunate accident?"

And now Sparrow was remembering things she hadn’t even been there for. The mysterious Wren putting the finishing touches on a set of rune-engraved arches, and thinking how impressed someone named Iphis would be. Iphis standing before a vast curving wall of wood, gazing at Wren with an overwhelming feeling of affection. Iphis clapping a hand over his mouth, and then over a sudden gash in his forearm, an overwhelming feeling of dread in the echoes of a word he should never have spoken. Miranda gazing at Iphis over a cauldron, seeing a scar peeking out from under the arm of his school robes, her admiration for the fellow warring with her growing unease.

"Earth to Sparrow?" said Cormac, shaking Sparrow by the shoulder.

Sparrow snapped back to reality. "Whoops," she said, "sorry, it’s just – do you know about any kind of magic where you can remember other people’s memories?"

Cormac frowned. "Sounds like the standard job of a Pensive, right? What, do you have some kind of portable Pensive in your pocket?"

"Well, I – maybe?" Sparrow rummaged around in her pocket, until her fingers brushed the wooden ball again. More memories flashed into her mind. Iphis’ daily dread of the evening. Wren’s frustration at their crafting setbacks. Miranda’s determination to get her potions perfect. "I just – I’ve clearly got something." She took a firm hold of the wooden ball and drew it out of her pocket.

And as she stared at it, she remembered everything.

The world became blurry as tears came to her eyes. She sank to her knees, a lump in her throat, worrying that if she said one more word aloud, she would start wailing and never stop.

Wren knelt before her. "Sparrow? What’s the matter?"

"Wren…" whispered Sparrow.

"That isn’t my name," said Wren. "Sure is a nice one though. I might have picked it if I had a choice. We could have been Bird Buddies."

"You do," whispered Sparrow. "You do, you – you did –" But then she could speak no more words, for the tears now flowed freely from her eyes, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed.

Wren threw their arms about Sparrow, holding her as she wept into their shoulder. "Gee willikers," they said, "what’s the matter?"

What was the matter? Where to begin? She’d gotten her mind wiped – she had no clue how long it had been since they had left, so it was entirely possible she’d missed a morning of her Animagus recitation. She’d leapt into an unknown situation with arrogant confidence and no preparation. She’d deceived her girlfriends – in a way she’d even manipulated them. She’d abandoned them, she had been planning to go off without them, Wren’s sudden blowup simply forced her to take the action she’d meant to take. She’d lost Wilhelmina the instant she’d arrived in London.

And worst, worst of all, she’d gotten her old friend Wren obliviated as well. She’d led her friend into the realization of their worst fears. It was only their creativity and foresight that had the chance to save them. And here was Wren, wandless, ringless, cloakless – even that had gone. What would they think, when it all came back to them? Would Wren forgive Sparrow at all? Was it even safe to cure their brainwashing? Or would they be set off by the realization?

So Sparrow wept for herself and her folly, and she wept for Wren, not loud but long.

But no tears can last forever, not even those of the greatest grief. Eventually Sparrow’s eyes dried and her breathing slowed. Wren gently released her. "Wish I could conjure up some tissues right now," they said. "Or, I don’t know, you could blow your nose on that excuse for a mattress. If you don’t mind sleeping in snot. Or I might not mind." They yawned. "No idea why I’m so tired, it’s not that late."

"You...did quite a lot of work," murmured Sparrow. She sniffled. "I’m honestly surprised you’re even conscious."

Wren frowned. "A lot of work when?" They glanced down at Sparrow’s hands, where she held the Remember Ball. "And what’s that‘cha got there, eh?"

Sparrow immediately scooted back, but not before Wren’s fingers had brushed the wooden ball. Wren looked confused. "Hang on a second, when did I have a bunch of huge stones falling on me? I don’t –" They glanced at Sparrow. "Weren’t you the one there for that?"

Sparrow nodded. She took a deep breath. "Wren. I need you to listen to me –"

"I already told you that’s not my name," said Wren, now looking annoyed.

"I am afraid," said Sparrow, "that it very much is." She held up the Remember Ball. "And this device will explain all, if I give it to you. When I give it to you." She drew back her hand as Wren reached for it. "Not yet, old friend, not yet. I need you to listen to me first. When I give this to you…" She hesitated, recalling a recent memory. "When I give this to you, I need you to try to keep yourself still, alright? I need you to stay with me. Do you understand?"

Wren looked deeply disturbed. "The hell is that thing then?"

"Your own work," said Sparrow.

"And when did –"

"There’s so much that was stolen from you," murmured Sparrow. "Even you were stolen from you."

Wren’s face changed from disturbance to naked fear. "Memory charms?"

Sparrow held out the Remember Ball once more. "And here is the counter – the first counter the world has ever known. Product of an incredibly clever and well-prepared inventor. Seemingly a hundred percent effective...but when the memories return to you, it’s going to hurt. A lot. You’re going to want to run in every direction, just like last time. But I need you to stay with me. Please."

Wren was already looking agitated. "I...can’t guarantee that."

"Then all I can say," said Sparrow, "is that that I will stay with you. Are you ready?"

Wren nodded slowly.

And Sparrow passed the wooden ball into Wren’s hands.

In an instant, the air in the room grew oppressive, the heat and humidity shooting up just as before. Wren’s eyes began to glow orange, as did the inside of their mouth. Their breath came ragged and heavy, as they held the Remember Ball in a death grip. Slowly they stood, turning up to the barred window high above.

Crouching, as if to leap.

Sparrow surged forward, standing over Wren.⋄⋄ _{WREN, PLEASE!} ⋄⋄

Wren fixed those glowing eyes on Sparrow. ∫∫∫∫∫∫ _REVENGE. ∫∫∫∫∫∫

⋄⋄_{WREN, DON’T DO THIS TO ME AGAIN! FOR GOD’S SAKE, STAY WITH ME!} ⋄⋄

The air was growing hotter still, and an orange aura was shining about Wren. If Sparrow didn’t think of how to actually get through to her friend in the next few seconds, they were going to take off like a rocket again. She grabbed Wren’s shoulders and, ignoring how hot her hands suddenly felt, she tried to bring her forehead to rest gently against her friend’s.

Unfortunately she was flustered and frantic enough that she wound up knocking their heads together. The two reeled away from each other, Sparrow falling back onto her behind.

But she’d had an idea, and she wasn’t going to be stopped from it. Fighting to focus through the pain in her skull, she closed her eyes and thought of everything she understood about Wren. Their feverish energy, their immense creativity, their refusal of all convention, their unshakable love and loyalty.

The image that came to her mind was not a silhouette before a forge. It was a low-slung stone building before a dark forest on a blue evening, brilliant orange light shining out of every window. ⋄⋄_{WREN? YOU IN THERE?} ⋄⋄

From the structure came no word, only the sound of rhythmic clanging. Sparrow willed her thoughts to creep forward, towards an open doorway at the far end. Even in this waking dream, she felt heat growing with every step she took. It might be that she would get thrown out of Wren’s head just like last time – but she had sworn to stay with them, hadn’t she? And if the hideous screams in Jocasta’s head could not daunt her, neither could this. She struggled her way to the door, steps slowing but never faltering.

At last the reached the doorway, and pushed her way in. It wasn’t possible to see precisely what filled the space – just a lot of orange light. At the center of it all stood a silhouetted figure, standing over an anvil, raising that rhythmic clanging as they swung a hammer down at something.

⋄⋄ _{WHATCHA WORKING ON, BUDDY?}⋄⋄

The figure grabbed the object on the anvil and slowly raised it to the light – a long pointed shape, glowing a deeper orange, save for a black hilt at one end. ∫∫∫∫∫∫ _{PLOUGHSHARES INTO SWORDS.} ∫∫∫∫∫∫

⋄⋄ _{I THINK YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO DO IT THE OTHER WAY AROUND?} ⋄⋄

∫∫∫∫∫∫ _{NOT IF I WANT MY BLOODY REVENGE.} ∫∫∫∫∫∫

⋄⋄ _{IS THAT THE BRITISH SENSE OF ‘BLOODY’, OR…} ⋄⋄

The figure swished the sword in the air a few times, before tossing it away, onto a pile of objects much like it, before taking up a flat black shape and placing it on the anvil. They raised their hammer, and once again rose the clanging.

⋄⋄ _{THIS SURE AS HELL ISN’T YOU, WREN. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU EVER THOUGHT OF ANYONE TAKING REVENGE UPON ANYONE? DO YOU REMEMBER HOW YOU FELT WHEN I WROUGHT MY WRATH UPON JOCASTA?⋄⋄}

The figure paused, hammer raised.

⋄⋄ _{I’D SO MUCH RATHER YOU BEAT YOUR PLOUGHSHARES INTO ARMOR, IF THAT’S POSSIBLE.} ⋄⋄

The figure slowly lowered the hammer. ∫∫∫∫∫∫ _{YOU WOULD ASK FOR THAT, WOULDN’T YOU.} ∫∫∫∫∫∫ They set the hammer upon the anvil, and leaned over it, resting on their elbows, head in hands. ∫∫∫∫∫∫ _{JESUS CHRIST, I’VE BEEN SO STUPID. I DITCHED YOU AND GOT MY MEMORY WIPED. I’M SORRY, SPARROW, I JUST – I’M SORRY.} ∫∫∫∫∫∫

⋄⋄ _{I’M THE ONE WHO GOT YOU INVOLVED HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. MAYBE WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS OUT LOUD THOUGH? IT’S A LITTLE DRAMATIC IN HERE. AND STRENUOUS. YOU DON’T NEED TO BE USING UP ANY MORE OF YOUR MAGIC.} ⋄⋄

∫∫∫∫∫∫ _{ALRIGHT ALRIGHT.} ∫∫∫∫∫∫ The light dimmed, the figure slowly fading into darkness.

Sparrow reared back as the vision vanished and sight returned to her eyes. And pain returned to her head, fainter but still present. "Whoof!" She rocked back onto her rear, before sitting up cross-legged. She retrieved the Remember Ball from where it had fallen on the floor, quickly shoving it back into her pocket before it could offer up any more of someone else’s private memories. "So, like I was saying. My fault, I dragged you into this –"

"You wanted to ask to use my gear," said Wren. All the orange light within them and about them had gone. They were sitting with their legs drawn up to their chin, arms wrapped around. Sparrow could see the tracks where tears had run down their cheeks. "You were being polite."

"In a very captain-commanding sort of way," murmured Sparrow.

"And I’m the one who went kablooey." They sniffled. "And I decided the best thing to do was run all the way down here and...get myself captured, apparently."

"You weren’t exactly in your right mind," said Sparrow.

"Then I’m just scared that I have a wrong mind to get into," said Wren. "Kind of like Jill, eh? Or Miranda. Or any of us. I knew I was cracked like the rest of the crew. I just didn’t know how bad."

"Well," murmured Sparrow, "for what it’s worth – you did have the opportunity to demonstrate that you have a great deal of magical energy."

Wren yawned. "And I just used up the last bit of it. ‘scuse me." They crawled to the straw-filled bag that passed for a mattress, and lay down against it, yawning again. "How’d you follow me?"

"A portkey," said Sparrow. "No idea where it’s gone now. Maybe they took it off me along with the wand...but not the Remember Ball. Or the mirror. No idea how they missed those."

"They were in your pocket," murmured Wren. "Rude to pick someone’s pocket."

"Oh yeah?" said Sparrow. "Check yours just to be sure."

Wren grumbled as they rummaged around in their pockets. And then growled as they withdrew empty hands. And then sat up, tired eyes now wide with concern. "They got the Wireless."

The Wireless. Right. The very thing Sparrow had meant to give secretly to her own parents. The secret was out now. Worse, if the rest of the crew was frantically speaking into it in hopes of any communication from Sparrow and Wren, they would be getting nothing. Worse than that, whoever held the thing could be intercepting any such communication. "Is our cover blown then?"

"Only if any of our captors know Morse Code," said Wren, "which, Wizards being Wizards, I very much doubt. And even if they do Iphis and I set up a cipher. But Wizards being Wizards, they might be able to reverse-engineer the thing, and then that cover would be blown. We may have tipped our hand to them even if they don’t figure out how the thing works." Wren folded their arms, laying back against the mattress and yawning. "All because I couldn’t hold my horses."

At that moment, something went tink. Sparrow’s eyes caught sight of a small vial of yellow liquid falling from Wren’s pocket to the stone floor, before it rolled under the upward curve of the so-called mattress. Sparrow scooted herself over to reach for it just as Wren was rolling off the bag and looking around for the source of the noise.

Sparrow’s fingers closed over it, and she lifted it to her eyes. The yellow liquid glowed, ever so faintly. "This looks oddly familiar. Were you trying to imitate Miranda’s efforts?"

Wren plucked it out of Sparrow’s fingers. "That’s emergency rations," they said. "In a sense. Miranda gave me a vial of her Sunlight Potion to keep on me, just in case I needed a recharge. Seems expired though." They pouted. "You’d think a potion would keep."

Sparrow giggled. "Oh no, my friend, I don’t think that’s it. Think of what time it is." She nodded her head at the moonlight. "You think a Sunlight Potion would be at its best right now? Back when Miranda first came up with this stuff, its healing effect on her arm failed at sunset."

"Blast," grumbled Wren. "Wait. How the hell did they search through my pockets but miss this thing? You’d think Wizards would be checking for hidden potion vials."

Sparrow glanced at her pocket, where the Remember Ball was safely tucked away. "And they also missed the stuff in my pockets?"

"Something certainly isn’t adding up," said Wren. They rummaged in their pockets again. "Hang on a second." They drew out a couple pieces of gleaming metal. "They didn’t get the ear pieces either. Are these people that sloppy?"

"Twice is a coincidence," said Sparrow. "Three times means something’s going on."

"Didn’t even clap us in irons either," said Wren, fitting one of the metal bits on over their ear. "I’d call that sloppiness – wait." They sat up, face alert, and passed the other earpiece to Sparrow. Putting a finger to their lips, they signed, "Put that on and come listen at the door. Come on." They scooted over to the door and put their ear to the keyhole.

Sparrow fumbled a bit to fit the looping metal over her ear. As she finally managed to set it into place, many new sounds came to her hearing. The brush of wind over the barred window above. The tiny squeaking of a mouse. A faint dripping of water somewhere.

And the voices of two men. Sparrow flattened herself to the floor and put her ear to the sliver of a gap between door and threshold.

"Well we’re already off the rails," said a gruff voice. "Your contact was supposed to convince the Patil girl to enter the trap. She’s the one in charge of their little rebellion, right? She’s the real threat. Instead you got her little waif of a girlfriend. All this one does is hide behind shields. She’s nothing."

"Burke told me the Jones girl was a lot easier to get her hooks into," said a higher voice.

Sparrow gasped.

"Apparently Jones is outgoing and Patil isn’t," said the higher voice. "Easier to get alone. Naïve, trusting, optimistic. Kind of a political organizer if she was a bit more cynical, that kind of thing. And apparently in the good graces of most of the students? Supposedly she was buttering up people last month."

"Well the ginger with the jewelry might be a more valuable prisoner," said the gruff voice, "once we can get some veritaserum into them. I want to know what she was planning with that Wireless."

"Please!" said the higher voice, sounding just a little desperate. "You don’t need to go wasting a precious resource, I want to have some fun getting information out of them. Anyway, we’ve got the Wireless and the rings, it shouldn’t be too difficult to decipher the runic patterns on them."

"And the cloak?"

"A stunning work of art," said the higher voice. "I’m keeping it for myself."

Wren quietly cursed, before Sparrow hopped up and put a hand over their mouth. Wren frowned and signed the same curse. Sparrow chucked them on the shoulder, then crouched to put her ear to the door jamb.

" – got Patil’s sweet little angel of a girlfriend," the gruff voice was saying, "and someone who’s probably her armorer. So she’s going to come soaring in like a dragon and smash everything. Look, Smith, I’ve already told you I don’t trust this contact of yours. How do you know this isn’t some kind of ploy of theirs?"

"You never know with metamorphmagi," said the higher voice, presumably Smith. "Tricky devils, aren’t they? But we’re talking about a fourteen-year-old girl, walking into a trap we’ve prepared. We can intercept her. All we have to do is keep our eyes on the tracking spell that my other contact got on her and the other girlfriend –"

"Other girlfriend? Merlin’s beard! Kids these days."

"If the Jones girl has that kind of pull," said a third voice, "she’s probably more effective a political organizer than we expected. She might actually convince her classmates to me on her side. That’s a more serious threat than Patil. We should dispose of her quickly."

"Dolph," said Smith. "Do the words ‘nuclear shitstorm’ mean anything to you?"

"It...sounds like a muggle term."

"Remember the weapons of the muggles," said Smith. "Political organizing is the most major threat, yes, but muggles made weapons so powerful that they became political effects in themselves. So I want you think about what exactly would happen if we killed the Jones girl, and Patil learned about it."

"Suppose I’d want to be keeping Diagon Alley standing," grumbled Dolph.

"Exactly," said Smith. "Sparrow stays alive. Until we can neutralize the rest of her friends and capture Hogwarts. Then we can throw her to the lethifolds.

"And the ginger?"

"Put them to work," said Smith.

Sparrow’s heart began to beat faster and her breathing became labored. She glanced up at Wren, who was looking down at her with an expression of steadfast determination. Wren offered a hand to Sparrow, pulling her to her feet and drawing her close in a tight side hug.

On the other side of the door, Smith was yawning loudly and expressively. "Merlin’s beard," said Smith, "it is way past my bedtime. I wish we’d been able to get this whole thing started earlier in the day."

"You always go to bed at midnight," said Phineas.

"I am always staying up way past my bedtime," said Smith. "It does terrible things to me."

"Hang on," said Dolph. "Why are we having this conversation right in front of the cell?"

"We are?" said Smith. "Well, the door is thick enough, anyway, and the two of them are probably asleep –"

"We need to wipe their memories again just in case," said Dolph.

Sparrow hurriedly swept the metal pieces off her and Wren’s ears, shoving them into her pockets. She pushed them back to the mattress. "Pretend to sleep," she signed, and flopped down against the end of the mattress as Wren fell along it.

The lock rumbled the latch clicked, and the door creaked open. Sparrow hoped her galloping heartbeat wasn’t loud enough to be heard.

A large hand roughly slapped her cheek. She squeaked as she was startled into opening her eyes. A huge figure loomed over her, face half-illuminated in the light from the hallway. Bearded, well-lined face, eyes boring right into her. She looked away nervously. "Hi? This is an odd time to wake someone up. How can I help?"

"How much did you hear?" growled the man.

"I, uh –"

"Obliviate."