Prologue: Bright Eyes

June 20, 1995

The clock chimed twelve times.

The woman stared blankly at the clock, and, shuddering at the noise, wrapped her arms closer around her. Her vision swayed as she rocked, but the movement provided relief. She squeezed her eyes shut. There was a trick she had once used, but long forgotten, when panic swelled within her. Something about counting.

But now she could only count the chimes.

"Now, now, love, enough of that. No need to go working yourself in a tizzy. You'll just get Doc Ryan to up your dose, that way." Her eyes were still squeezed shut, but she recognized the woman talking to her, for some reason. She was familiar yet a stranger all at once.

"I thought we weren't supposed to use nicknames, that it could be-uh-condescending?" Another voice murmured, hesitant and uncertain.

"What they tell you in school and what actually works are two different things. Take this dear little monkey, here. If you keep talking to her, she keeps listening, and you'll barely hear a peep out of her. But let her keep thinking to herself, she'll be in solitary quicker than any of them, I'm afraid."

Solitude.

She liked solitude.

Yet she hated it.

The walls were soft and inviting, but the floor was bare and soaked in blood. The silence was calming, but then interrupted, filled with screams and bright lights.

She shook her head vehemently, putting her hands over her ears in an effort to tune the rising voices out.

"What are you doing there, love? That naughty clock getting the best of you? Here, put your hands down and let's get your supper, hmm?"

The voices still murmured, but faded as the woman in white spoke to her. She swallowed hard, nodding. She opened her eyes, seeing some semblance of food before her.

"Aye, there's a good girl."

"What's her name?" The hesitant voice spoke again, and she was finally able to put a face to the sound. It was a young man, barely out of school. His voice was too soft, but in appearance he resembled another young boy she once knew.

Abracadabra!

Don't say that too loudly, Dash, people will think…

I'm not going to kill him, just make him disappear…

Just make him disappear….

Just make him disappear…

The pudding suddenly looked unappatizing. She squeezed her eyes shut once more.

The first nurse took a deep breath.

"We call you Jane, don't we love? Janie has bit of a spotty memory, you see, found on the streets and such. Never have been able to ID her properly. And such a shame, too, she's such a sweetie, I bet you have people somewhere who miss you very much, don't you?"

Dash, what are you-

Dash, look out-

Dash-

I'm not going to kill him, just make him disappear…

"And I bet they would love a bite of that pudding, wouldn't they?" When Jane didn't respond, the nurse let out a small sigh.

"Well, it was worth a try, wasn't it, love? You better eat something soon, you didn't like it very much when we put you on the tube."

"The tube?" The not-Dash inquired.

"If patients refuse to eat, you see. Little psychosis hunger strikes, I call them. Jane here goes off and on with it, depending if she's had a good day or not.

"And...is today a good day?"

"Well, the lights aren't flickering, so there's that." The nurse chuckled, moving about in the room. After a moment of silence, the nurse started again. "Oh, it's just a joke amongst the long-term nurses here. This building is so old, the electrical gets faulty now and again, but it always seems to be when Jane here is having a bad day. We call it her curse." The last word was said in an amused whisper, but it still fell on Jane's ears.

Nasty business, family curses are. Usually the hardest to break…

He was a peculiar looking wererabbit, with a sharp grin with even sharper teeth….

A curse on ye and yer kind…

Gran, I'm so sorry…

The locket…

Promise me, Weiss...

She put her hands over her ears once more, trying to block out the voices swirling around within her.

"He'll kill them. I tried to warn them, I tried, but I couldn't-I don't remember-" she began to wail.

"Oh, shush love, no need turning into a banshee on us. There's a good girl…"

But the words had no affect on her.

"The Order, the curse, the mark, it's-it wasn't him. It wasn't him-"

Her eyes opened to an unamused, yet gentle nurse trying to calm her. The new orderly stood stone-still, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. Tentatively, as he always seemed to be, he spoke.

"Who'll kill them, Jane?" He asked. The older nurse seemed irritated that her junior was only serving to rile her patient up, but the words had the opposite effect, Jane's wailing drowning down into rocking once more.

"You-Know-Who." She whispered.

She no longer heard the nurses after that. Their lips moved, but she merely rocked, lost in things she couldn't quite remember. She didn't notice the shocked look on the orderly's face. She didn't pick up on the flickers of recognition, confusion, or horror. He was just another shadow among shadows, now.

And she had grown used to ignoring shadows.

Chapter One: St. Anthony's Fire

July 18, 1995

The clock struck once.

They wanted her to eat again, but the food felt like ashes in her mouth. Candles suddenly appeared, floating about her, and she found them far more interesting than the nurse's attempts at playing 'aeroplane'.

"Aww, I thought you liked your milkshake, love? Your stomach can't handle the tough stuff until you eat a bit more. You ought to feel proud, I wish someone told me that I should eat milkshakes for my health."

"Yeah-I-I love milkcakes." Another voice sounded. Her roommate. An older woman who talked slowly, but never said anything unkind, outside of her tantrums for more food.

"We know you do Katie, you're like me, you could do to lose a few pounds off your tummy." The older woman giggled girlishly in response, patting her tummy in queue.

"But I like my tummy. It makes me-it looks like I'm going to have a baby." The woman squealed, kicking her feet in the air excitedly.

Suddenly, the candles disappeared from Jane's vision, their smoke lingering in her nose. She curled into herself, putting her hands over her ears. She didn't want to hear about Katie's baby again. She didn't want to hear about how God had told Katie to light her house on fire, or how she was possessed by a demon, or how the men in badges had taken the baby away from her, or-or-or-

Jane's brain felt like it was hiccupping over itself. Repeating the terrible story over and over and over and over but not letting her remember what the nurse's name was or what day it was or-

"Oh, shush, love. It's not all that bad, is it? It's even got banana in it, you usually love that."

"I like chocolate!"

"Trust me, Katie, we know you-"

Suddenly, a loud clash resounded down the hallway, loud enough for Jane to hear it through her hands. She froze, her breath hitching. The effect was not limited to her. It didn't take much to set the hyenas off, she could hear the wailing and banging of other patients that followed.

"What was that noise?" Katie asked, her mouth agape.

"Oi! Sorry, so sorry-I'm bit of a klutz-"

"She really is a klutz-"

"So sorry-"

"Just a bit of a klutz. Um-which room was it, again?"

"Right next door, Miss Blackman."

"Ah! Right. Thank you."

Jane blinked. Three figures crowded the doorway. Not-Dash and two strangers, both of whom stood as awkwardly as the patients, as if they weren't sure how to walk in what they were wearing. Clearly evidenced by the stranger with a scuffed knee.

"Ellie! I thought your shift had ended?" Not-Dash asked nervously, fiddling with his fingers. Jane pondered for a moment whether the nurses had spent too much time around their patients, picking up quirks and such. She began fiddling with her own hands. Something was missing. A stick or something. She needed something, just something to keep her fingers busy.

"Not quite, I'm afraid. Bonnie called in ill, so 'ere I am. And who might you be?"

"Hey, Miss Ellie-" Katie began, tugging at the older nurse's pants. The nurse ignored her, turning her attention instead to the new arrivals.

"Detectives Wesley Anderson and Dora Blackman, madam." The balding ginger man spoke, flashing a badge. Jane cocked her head. The badge had an aura about it, but while it was fuzzy, it was just blank paper. The nurse didn't seem to notice. Neither did Katie, whose eyes were transfixed on Jane's untouched milkshake.

"Miss Ellie-can I have her milkcake?" Once again, she went ignored.

"Detectives? Is something wrong?" The nurse asked. One of the detectives looked like there was very much something wrong, continuing to glance back over at Jane, but instead cleared his throat and offered a shaky smile.

"Quite the contrary, madam. Just investigating an old missing persons case, we thought one of your patients might be the person we were looking for. A Miss Joan Public?"

"Jane Public, actually." The nurse was now looking at her. They all were. Jane continued wringing her hands, deciding to focus instead on the candles that had faded back into appearance.

"Miss Ellie-"

"Do you mind if they talk to her, Ellie? I'll sit in, in case she gets upset."

"Miss Ellieieieie-"

"I don't see the harm in it. I-"

"Miss Elllllllllliiiiiieeeee-"

"Oh, alright! I'll go get Miss Katie here something healthy to snack on. Just don't leave them in the room alone with her, alright? No offense to you two, of course, just hospital policy. And see if you can't get her to eat some of her nutrition shake, can you?"

"Of course. We wouldn't want to put you on the tube, now, would we miss Jane?" Not-Dash smiled hesitantly, trying to mimic his superior.

Jane responded in turn by closing her hands over her ears once more, watching the candles float about once more. Some wax dripped onto the older nurse as she left, causing Jane to refrain a wince.

"Dear Merlin." The ginger man muttered, peering closer. She shied away in turn.

"What? You can tell she's a witch just by looking at her?" Not-Dash whispered quickly, befuddled.

"Yes, because I think... I think I know her. Cathy? Cathy Weiss?"

Jane stilled, the candles floating faster around her. She suddenly felt dizzy, as if she were in an inferno of a merry-go-round, the candle flames growing in size. She didn't respond, instead feeling her brain begin to hiccup once more.

Bloody hell, Cat!

It was never real. It was just for show the entire time, is that it?

Yes, that's exactly it. That's what we agreed to.

But is it still true?

Cathy-

"It's not real. It's not real." She murmured softly, closing her eyes tightly, attempting to make the candles, the ginger-haired man, the clock, and everything in the room to go away. But when she opened her eyes, they were still there, their eyes reflecting the candle light.

"You know her, Arthur?"

"Tonks, she was a member of the Order."

"You're havin' a go at me."

"I'm not. It was before the Potters were murdered. She was a friend of Lily's, in fact. When we couldn't find her, everyone thought-I mean, the McKinnons had all just been killed-Merlin, this is…." The ginger haired man murmured, out of breath and blinking profusely.

"Cathy," He began slowly, drawing closer, "do you remember me? I'm Molly Prewitt's husband, Arthur Weasley."

Molly.

Mollie.

Mooollliee.

The name stood at the tip of her tongue, frustrating her. She bit her lip, shaking her head aggressively.

"Go away go away go away go away-"

She didn't realize she was speaking until Not-Dash came forward, gently laying her hands down from her ears.

"You mentioned a few days ago that you tried to warn somebody. That it wasn't someone's fault. And The Order? Do you remember any of that, Jane?"

No. She didn't even remember Not-Dash's name. Or the older nurse that had just walked out. She barely remembered Katie's, and wouldn't if the woman didn't sing her own name so much. She certainly didn't remember this weasel man, or-wait. There was something.

"The rat." She whispered. "It was the rat." She attempted desperately to bring her hands to her ears once more, but to no avail. Not-Dash was holding her arms down, he was holding all of her down, he was angry, yelling, and he had the dark mark, and-

She jumped back with a wail, flailing back away from the young orderly. He wasn't as inexperienced now, instead attempting to hold her steady. But a snake slithered on his arm, hissing.

"The rat?" The weasel-man repeated, stunned. He looked back at the other stranger, an odd look passing between the two of them.

"It's one of the things she goes on about." Not-Dash explained, struggling to keep her from falling out of the bed. "Rats, cats, and clocks seem to be her favorite subjects. I only heard her talk about You-Know-Who once. But I haven't been here that long, you see-"

"Hickory dickory dock, the rat ran up the clock-"

"See what I mean?"

"The clock struck twelve, the cat fell down, hickory dickory dock…"

"She'll be humming that for ages, now. Shush, it's all right. We don't want you in solitary, now, do we? There's a good girl." He said hesitantly, but not all that reassuringly. He wasn't very good at this. He patted her back lightly, as if afraid to touch her.

And he should be afraid.

Gran. Gran, please wake up.

Ferula!

I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-

Gran, please-

She flinched away from him. She wasn't doing much for his self-confidence, but she didn't care. She didn't care. He wasn't Dash, he wasn't even Not-Dash, he was just another orderly that was going to fade away with all the others in a few weeks….

"So...what now?" Not-Dash asked, looking at the two strangers.

"I...we need to transfer her to St. Mungos." Weasel-man murmured, a sorrowful look on a typically jolly face.

"They'll leak word to the Daily Prophet the day she's admitted." Dory muttered.

"She needs a mind healer. She's not much better off than the Longbottoms."

"Dumbledore has resources, I'm sure. And you know Sirius would be more than happy to take her in, if she was friends with the Potters."

"They have a...complicated history, if I recall. Besides, how easily can you erase the paper trail back to you and Shacklebolt? To me? Once word gets out that's she's alive, the Ministry will have our heads if they think we've hidden something in an official case."

"I….damn it all, you're right, as usual. We don't have admit her as Cathy Weiss though, not yet. We'll just say we identified her as a witch-bloody hell, that'll still set the purebloods off, won't it?"

"I don't think there's a way to get around that, at this point."

"But it's not the muggles' fault." Not-Dash replied desperately. "In fact, I'm a squib, it was a bloody squib that found her! The muggles did what any person would do, they put a mad woman in a hospital. They couldn't have known."

"You know the pureblood supporters won't take it that way." the Dorie woman muttered, looking back at Jane. "They'll see a pureblooded witch who's wasted away, kidnapped by muggles for over a decade against her will. Hell, they may even blame muggle potions for her madness."

Against her will.

Against her will.

Against her will.

Had she been forced to come here? She barely remembered not being here, in this bed, with this ticking clock and telly cartoons. She vaguely remembered hunger. She remembered dark alleys and streets and bad men and a yelling and-

The candles flickered around her, causing the strangers looked alarmed. She didn't know why, the nurses never seemed to see the candles. She could hear the hyenas begin to howl, nurses cursing under their breaths in the hallway as they attempted to calm their patients.

"See?" Not-Dash breathed. "Accidental magic. Happens when she gets worked up, sometimes."

"And the muggles think it's a problem with their electrick-city?" Arthur asked, his face lighting up.

"Yeah. Every electrician they've hired has been baffled."

"Eleck-trish-uns? So muggles have specialists for-"

"She's never hurt anyone, has she?" Dory interrupted, rolling her eyes at her companion. "With uncontrolled magic?"

"Not that I know of. But, like I said-"

"You haven't been here very long. Yeah, we got that."

"Look, you two wouldn't even be here if I hadn't sent that letter. Letters, actually, nobody responded to the first one. Do you realize how hard it is to get ahold of a owls in the muggle world? They would put me in here if they realized what I was doing."

"I-I understand that. Look, I'm sorry, Trimble, it's just that...what are we going to do, Arthur?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowed worriedly.

"We tell the Order, that's what. We'll give Dumbledore time to prepare, and come back here in a few days to arrange the transfer. Obliviate who we need to…"

Jane's mind came to a screeching halt.

Obliviate.

Obliviate.

Obliviate.

Obliviate.

Her head was screaming and she was screaming and everything hurt and she was lying in blood and he was grabbing her and the snake was hissing and the candles were roaring and-

"Bloody hell, what did you say now-"

Obliviate.

"If you don't want them to put her in solitary, you better do something quick-"

Obliviate.

"Arthur, she's-"

Obliviate.

"Stupefy!"

Weasel-man's voice rung in her ears. And then-it all came to a screeching stop. She fought against drowsiness, against the need to give in to sleep. She could hear Not-Dash muttering to himself, and the weasel man speaking once more.

"It was...the word obliviate, that was what set her off, wasn't it? Maybe….maybe it wasn't like it was with the Longbottoms, then. Maybe this was a spell gone wrong." He murmured softly. He was holding her hand. Usually, such a thing would bother her, but she could barely feel a thing. She could barely stay awake. But she heard the Dorie woman's reply.

"The question is, what did they want her to forget?"