When glory comes, loss of memory follows

This wasn’t how he’d wanted to spend his day.

Harry collapsed heavily into one of the window seats. He needed a cigarette and a drink and –

Elijah took his cigarette from his mouth and in unison they all said, “Adam.” Even Lis answered. Harry laughed heartily and got to his feet. He walked over to Elijah who raised an eyebrow at him. He took the cigarette off of Elijah and smirked before putting it to his lips. He inhaled the smoke and leaned towards Elijah. He parted the younger boy’s lips with his thumb and pressed his lips against them. He exhaled the smoke and nicotine into Elijah’s mouth and pulled away, smiling slightly at the dazed look on his cousin’s face. He handed the cigarette back and got to his feet again.

“Matthew taught me that,” he explained.

“Remind me to treat you to something next time I see you.” Elijah replied, not missing a beat.

It was a night like that that truly made Harry’s blood boil. Not out of anger but out of desire; pure, unadulterated desire. He and Elijah had always had an interesting relationship. Neither one was able to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t exactly platonic yet they couldn’t stop from indulging their needs. Like that time at the dinner table when Marina had decided to invite them over. Harry had been sat next to Elijah and things had gotten out of control. After a lusty grope under the table, they’d retreated upstairs and what had started off as...well, it could hardly be called innocent. Fresh home from Paris Elijah was hardly inexperienced. Harry had leapt at the chance to be bedded by him. Every poisonous fantasy, ever dream...every thought that concerned Elijah sexually was made something of a reality that night and Harry couldn’t help but feel guilty about it.

He didn’t regret it...he just...knew it shouldn’t have happened. There was no sex...just...fumbling. Still, those weren’t memories Harry wished Elijah to see. He could barely come to terms with them himself and if anyone else glimpsed into them he’d be mortified. So when Robert asked him what he’d be willing to give...Harry blanched and bit his lip – the only part of his face that still held some colour.

“I-I...” Harry stumbled over his words and released his lip. “The twins and Elisabeth and...and...any of the models he worked with. Cherie, Cassidy, Camille...any of the girls that stayed with him for a prolonged time period in Paris...”

"If you think I don't know that Elijah Krum has a few skeletons in his closet, you're wrong," Robert said frankly. "So do we all. I am not judging you or him or anyone else. I may well know more about Eli than you think I do. Assemble me either a list or, better yet, assemble me some warm bodies that are willing to contribute something that, for right now, would be pleasant for him to remember."

Khaat came back in and handed her father a glass jar with a number of glistening blue threads of light. She turned to leave again.

"You aren't going to stay to do this?" He asked her.

"No," she said softly, "You know how to do this part. And there may be others that would rather have their thoughts donated before mine." She excused herself softly and Robert set the jar on the overbed table.

"Sometimes she cares too much," Robert sighed. He drew his wand and took Khaat's jar and gently implanted the threads that she had donated. She would have been selective. He trusted what she had given. There were certain things that Khaat would prefer Eli never remember. He was sure those memories were not in her jar of thought threads.

Waking up for the second time was a lot more unpleasant and it was for that reason that Elijah wanted to curl up and blank out, back into the realm of unconsciousness. Voices were rattling around uncomfortably in his brain. They didn’t belong but what he saw, what he heard and what he felt, seemed oddly familiar. He blinked up at the off-white ceiling as thought patterns and considerations and fantasies and desires settled into his brain. Images that were so familiar yet so...not...flashed before his eyes. Then, the noise – which hadn’t been noise at all – died. He found himself lying there in a colourless, odourless room and he decided he hated it.

He listened for a few moments, seeking out the tell-tale signs of another body in the room. When nothing but silence rang in his ears, Elijah eased himself up into a sitting position. His arm quivered and gave out on him on the first try. Persistence prompted Elijah to try again and it took him a few tries before he could finally support his torso on his elbows. His mind was throbbing painfully, almost as if it was swollen, within his skull and he wasn’t exactly sure where he could find some potions for it. He knew he wouldn’t need much – just a headache potion. So, with that in mind, Elijah decided that perhaps he’d try (the key word being try) to get up out of bed.

With all of the whirling sounds, voices and images in his mind though...he doubted very highly that he would make it. Resigning himself to the fact that he would not make it, Elijah flopped back against the pillows, forcibly pushing the intrusive whirling strands in his brain, out of the forefront of his mind. He didn’t care to look at them. They were anomalies and they certainly weren’t his. Elijah reached up and ran his hand through his hair, which was surprisingly longer than he remembered. His mind immediately showed him clips of what looked like an older version of his self – a stronger, healthier version – with short hair...hair that would feel the same as the hair on his head now. Cautiously, Elijah removed his hand and dropped it down by his side.

So this was his reality was it? Quite frankly, Elijah preferred it when he was asleep. He knew there was a reason he spent the entire time drawing on the walls of the Hospital Wing after the near-drowning incident. Wait...what?

Khaat had left Eli's care to her father, but Ministry business pressed this morning. She agreed to do morning rounds for both their patients. She had gotten there early, swilled at least three large mugs of French Roast before daylight while she did her paperwork, and then worked her way from the top floor downward, one chart at a time, Hannah walking with her, taking her orders as she dictated them. She had to work double time this morning.

She was wearing a silk dress that was hand painted with a contemporary design on a crisp white raw silk background. She had liked the dress because it had reminded her of a very similar design to one of Eli's paintings that she had bought to give to her mother for Christmas but then had been unable to part with because she loved it so much. Her heels were tall poppy colored stilettos that, surprisingly, made little noise as she walked down the early morning hallways.

Hannah handed her Eli's chart, and Khaat read through it, shut it, handed it back to Hannah and went in, followed by Hannah, who was ready to take Khaat's orders. She saw Eli was apparently awake, at least by his breathing, and resting. Good. That much was good. She cleared her throat slightly to alert him that he was not alone now. She went over to him.

"Good morning, Eli," she said gently. "I'm Khaat--one of your healers. You're at St. Mungos." She laid her hand on her head. "Well, that can't feel welcome," she said, detecting his headache. She had expected that. She drew off the pain from his head, as much as she could draw off. If she were correct, he might still have a slight dull ache, but it certainly would feel better. She needed to broach the whole subject with him of the missing time, but one shock at a time, she decided. "Better?" she asked. "How are you feeling?"

The silence that followed his defeat was somewhat soothing to the temper that had flared within the Bulgarian. He enjoyed the quiet moment to himself while he could, before it was broken. Elijah was not left to wonder when that time would be though because shortly after he let his eyes flutter shut, someone cleared their throat. Elijah’s eyes snapped back open immediately and irritation rose up inside of his chest. He wanted to sleep off the fuzziness. He didn’t want to have to entertain.

He didn’t have to worry about any of that though because she seemed content to do the talking for him. Elijah really didn’t want to hear it. He wanted privacy. He knew he wasn’t going to find that at the hospital but he wanted to be able to retreat, even only mentally, if he so wished. Elijah wasn’t sure he wanted to retreat into his mind, though, because some bizarre threads of what felt like memories kept flooding into the forefront of his mind and he was having trouble keeping them at bay. Every time he threw up a new wall, it was torn down again. The feeling was foreign and incredibly disorientating. Elijah didn’t know what was more disorientating though, the fact that he couldn’t keep these memories out, the fact that he had the ability to do so or the fact that they were there in the first place.

She clearly knew him and Elijah found that those mercury slivers knew her as well. She certainly saw fit to call him ‘Eli’ which was a name only Stelladora and Alice had used. Even Micah, who had tutored him from the moment he could, spoke to him using ‘Elijah’ or ‘El’, as he preferred. But she knew him and Elijah seemed bothered by this.

Then of course, she went and did something strange. Her hand was placed on his head and he felt the headache being drawn away. Elijah turned his head away and felt the ache slam back against his mind. He pouted and stared at the window, not out but just at it. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at but either way...he didn’t want to have to deal with her and her dress again. It looked like someone had thrown paint at it – hardly the nicest of things to wear. But even that felt familiar – the colours.

“No,” he responded petulantly, turning his head away from her. He had not wanted that. He’d had enough interference and now, if anything, his head hurt more. “I am fine. You need not stay around. I just want to go home.” He kept his eyes fixed on the wall, unsure of what he’d find it he turned his head. He didn’t want to find out who she was. He knew who she was but at the same time, he knew that he didn’t. What was going on?

"Well, I can understand that, but I'm afraid that isn't going to happen right now," Khaat said calmly and quietly. "I am sorry. I know your mind feels a bit like swiss cheese right now and is all full of holes. I'm sure some of them feel comforting and some of them don't. Thats normal. The truth is, you've been hit with a bit of an obliviate spell, and it has erased some of your memory. So for now, you're staying here until we can determine how much is gone and how much of it we can help you regain. I know no one enjoys being here, but I really don't have a choice at the moment. Again, my apologies."

She looked at him, and decided he needed to know one more thing. Well, maybe two. She had always been frank with him and clear. He had always understood that about her. She wasnt' shifting gears on him now whether he remembered her or not. No matter what year he thought this was, this would be something he did need to be braced for. "You also probably need to know one more thing at least. Your father has been here." She knew he had never felt like Viktor had given a damn. That was how she got involved in the first place. Eli hadn't thought he cared. Not until just very recently. Her guess was that, much as he might have wanted a positive relationship with his father, he might well not remember it. At least not yet. "You do not have to see him if you choose not to. He is not legally responsible for you. I am. He won't be able to come in, unless you decide its what you want. I do try to not be in your face about your life and your decisions."

She decided she had said enough. Hannah anticipated her and handed her an ice pack. She took it from Hannah and put it very gingerly against the residual ache she knew he had. "The headache will stop completely in another 24 hours or so," she said. "I will order a pain potion for you that you can choose to take as often as I allow it, or not. The choice is yours."

Elijah was a fool to think he’d be allowed home straight away and he knew very well that he was. Still, it had been worth a try – not that it made much of a difference. He sighed, realising that Bulgaria was a world away and that England was a world away from where he wanted to be: home. It didn’t honestly feel like home but it was the only place he had and it was only ever made welcoming by Stelladora. If she was there, Elijah knew he’d be alright. Stella would look after him. She always had and nothing seemed to have changed – or at least, Elijah hoped nothing hadn’t. He loved her. She was a mother to him in all but blood. She was much more than Marina could ever hope to be. He needed her there with him. She’d always been there. Now he was alone, physically useless, with a Healer stood over him clearly knowing more about him than she claimed to; or didn’t, as this case was.

Obliviation spell? As in, a memory charm? Elijah’s mind produced another scene and he watched as a slightly young version of the elder self he’d seen before wove his wand through the air around the head of a kitten. They were in some sort of cafe although Elijah couldn’t tell which one. The Healer was there too; and a girl, a beautiful girl. Elijah’s breath caught in his throat as the scene was ripped away and he looked up at the Healer. She looked familiar now he thought about it, but why he didn’t know because he’d never seen her before in his life. Or had he? The scenes suggested he had but he didn’t recall that ever happening. Yet at the same time...he did.

“A bit?” Elijah quipped, irritated by the understatement. Clearly, if he was that old in those scenes and as old as he felt in this body then he’d lost more than ‘a bit’. “What’s the date?” He snapped; stifling a sneeze as his nose tingled. Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. This was too much. None of this made sense. “So what have you done? Just filled my head with nonsense? Thank-you-very-much for that but it’s not appreciated! What were you trying to do? Jog my memory?” Elijah scoffed. “What do you know of memory spells? And you call yourself a Healer.” Elijah sniffed indignantly and rolled his eyes back over to the window. A bit, what bullshit.

“Your father has been here.”

Elijah scowled. Fantastic. Viktor’s presence made his black mood darken further and he didn’t even bother looking at the Healer again. He didn’t know where she got it into his head that she was responsible for him. She wasn’t; full stop. He could look after himself. He’d done alright so far hadn’t he? Well, perhaps not if he was lying in a hospital bed. Sighing, Elijah closed his eyes, wracking his brain for memories of his father. Scenes were brought up before his eyes and he watched them play out, wondering what had caused the man’s change of heart. But then...he figured it out. He saw images of a locket, one that was so familiar yet so foreign. He saw tears streaming down his cousins’ faces. They were older and more beautiful. Then of course, he saw the headstone. His mother’s name was cut into it in jagged, unprofessional lettering. She was dead; dead and buried.

“I don’t want him here.” Elijah whispered, taking shaky breaths into his lungs. “How long has it been?” He turned a little and looked at the woman. A name rang out in his mind and he decided to taste it on his tongue. His accent was as strong as ever and his English sounded very clipped and odd. Still, something rang true in his mind when he tossed the name around in his mouth. “Khaat...” he paused and closed his eyes before opening them and adding, “How long has it been since my mother died?”

He pursed his lips when she placed the icepack on his head. He moved his head across the pillow and let it fall away. He didn’t want ice or anything of the like. He wanted a headache potion and he made sure she knew about it. “No pain potions. I just want a headache one. I don’t want to fool around with Muggle ‘remedies’. Just load me up with potions and be done with it. I don’t want to have to stay awake longer than necessary.”

"Its May 1, 2024. Its Wednesday," she said gently. "Marina has been dead about 3 months. I'm sorry. I didn't give you those memories. I only gave you good ones about you and me and things that I could directly remember about you myself. Your chart says my father gave you a few good ones about interactions you had with him. There is no notations about anyone else giving you memories. And, whether you like it or not, I never implanted anything negative. I won't do that to you. If you're remembering that means the treatment you're getting is perhaps helping already. And, yes, I am a healer, but whatever is causing you so much pain is not my doing. Your own brain is doing it to you.

"As for your father, I told him he could not come unless I specifically sent for him. And I would never do that unless it was something you wanted," she said. She figured he would never ever remember, if he were lucky, that terrible day that they both had nearly died at Barker's hands. The day that he figured out how very much they did care for each other--the day he realized he didn't have to be alone. She could not give that back to him without having him remember the pain that came with it. And she refused to just hand that back to him. And if she were lucky, his overwhelmed state would not let him see how much she did love him. She was glad his little pal, whatever-his-name was, wasn't there at the moment. He was devoted enough, but he didn't need to see that in every way that mattered, Eli was her son. Always would be. No one needed to know that now.

"No potions, huh? Well, let me try this again, then." She laid her hands very softly on either side of his head. She had used her skills to draw off what she could. That would not work again. She knew one more healing spell. To the best of her knowledge it had never failed her, but then again, there was a first time for everything. She used her skills with touch to draw the pain into herself. It was the only other way, and so far as she knew it only worked on pain. It allowed her to take it from him and to absorb it herself. Her father could draw it off her later. "That may help with your headache," she said, "but I seriously doubt it will take away how much easier it would be to sleep and escape all this. I'd probably be looking to do the same thing. Eli, I've known you and your...family...for awhile. When you're ready to talk, all you need to do is say so." It had to come in his timing. She refused to push. And the last she was going to tell him was that he had children--plural. And that they were a lot older than he was remembering.

"Is there anything else I could do for you? Did you eat either yesterday or today?" she asked. She knew he wouldn't eat right now, but that wouldn't help him for him to go all aristocratic on her about food, which he did whenever he had his boxer shorts in a twist.

May Day; it was May Day. Elijah blinked and looked away, back towards the window again. He swallowed and felt tears spring in his eyes. His mother was dead and had been for months. Elijah didn’t know what he was expected to do now. He didn’t love her. In fact, he loathed her. She was his mother though. He had a duty to her didn’t he? He was her heir and now, she was no more. What had the funeral been like? Had he cried? Had Cecilia cried? Had anyone cried? Did they laugh? Did they celebrate? What had happened? Why couldn’t he remember?

Elijah blinked away the tears and sighed shakily. He knew something about memory spells. He’d spent months reading about them. He didn’t like the idea that memories had been implanted in a mind that had no space for them. Torture was the only known way to break a memory spell; which meant that they didn’t erase, they covered. The reason why his mind throbbed was because those memories were still intact. He knew this, but he didn’t understand them. He didn’t understand why this had happened. It was as if those memories, however consciously aware of the scenes he had been at the time, meant nothing to him.

And they didn’t. He didn’t know who he was. Everything that was being supplied seemed wrong. He saw an artist. He saw a person that spent more time obsessing over the fairer sex than some of his peers. Elijah saw someone he’d never wanted to be. He loved art but he...he hadn’t planned on making a career out of it. He liked the idea but he knew he’d have to be a government body or something. It was what his father would have wanted. His sister was to become a socialite and he was to look after his family by making as much money as possible within the Bulgarian Ministry. He was to marry Mira and have as many children as she could give him. Then, with his life objectives done, he could die. The idea seemed ridiculous now, not with seeing what he’d become.

But what was he now?

Elijah pushed himself up into a sitting position; he leaned heavily against the headboard and looked around the room, taking in the minute details that he wouldn’t have necessarily been looking for. He analysed the angle of the shadows and counted each petal on the bouquet in the vase. His mind was doing it automatically and quite frankly it scared him. Elijah sucked in a breath and let his head fall into his hands, his oversized hands. He shuddered and jerked out of the way when Khaat dried to draw the headache out again.

“Enough,” he barked, his voice hollow and torn. “Just...just...leave me alone...please. Maybe, you know, maybe your treatment is working but it is not doing any good for me. My mind is showing me that I am someone else...someone I do not know. Someone I can barely recognise. You healers just do not know when to leave well enough alone do you? I am sorry but...I cannot...I cannot be the person you think I am. Replacing memories you want me to see and neglecting to give me what you do not is unfair. Circumstance created something I do not know how to describe. Perhaps this spell has done me a favour. I am not the person you need me to be. That person died when the spell was cast. I am sorry to disappoint you.”

Elijah sighed and ran his hands through his hair, murmuring. “I do not even remember if I went to the toilet yesterday or took a shower. Why are you asking if I ate?”

Khaat was just about to respond to Eli's frustration when she heard a voice behind her, saying, "Thank you. I'll take it from here." She turned to see her father walking into the room.

"So," Robert looked at Eli. "We're not treating you well? My apologies. You're absolutely right. You have a right to have it all. And since you believe you're ready for it, then perhaps we should trust to your wisdom." He turned his wand on Khaat and commanded. "Elijah! All of it!" She attempted to fight him, and he twisted her wrist. She heard a loud, sickening cracking as ligaments snapped in her forearm. She recoiled in pain. He drew forth a thick, tangled, hideous web of thought threads from within her. Khaat knew exactly what he intended to do. She looked at the knotted mess and knew that he was about to unleash the deepest parts of her heart--some of the most hideous things she'd ever known--upon Eli. He was about to know it all.

"No!" She planted herself between Eli and her father and drew her wand on him. Before she knew what had happened, her father had fired upon her. It had been gut reaction. Instinct. Purely defensive. And his wand had always been quicker, stronger. It knocked her back into the hallway, into the opposite wall, where she landed in a heap. She saw her father flick the thought threads from the end of his wand to Eli. She shook her head, feeling insurmountable grief and pain. She had wanted Eli to never have to relive all of that again, never remember anything about anything dark. No matter how braced he had believed he was for it.

She couldn't bear to see anymore. She apparated out--away. Just away. Any place that felt safe. She landed in thick, overgrown grass that was still wet from the morning dew. When she realized where she was, she simply curled up against the cold gray stone and wept.