Maggie

Chapter 24 - The Pensieve

Trigger warning: explicit references to eating disorders and other mental health issues, and self-harm after the '***'.

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The sensation was exhilarating. The entire office seemed to lurch beneath my feet, throwing me forward so violently I fell hard into the pensieve. Then I was falling and spinning and falling, like some underwater current was pulling me, cruelly, downward. Like I had been caught in a whirlpool so powerful, an Olympic swimmer would stand no chance against it.

Then, I was tipped upright and my feet slammed into solid ground. I stumbled slightly and long, thin arms snatched out to catch me before I fell. I was staring up into the face of Professor McGonagall.

"Are you alright? The sensation takes some adjustment."

"Fine." I was embarrassed to notice my voice rasped slightly but was distracted at once by the arrival of Albus and Professor Malfoy, who both dropped beside me mere moments after I had landed.

"Where is this place?" Asked Albus, curiously.

"It's a disused corridor," replied McGonagall. "I've never used it because there's nothing down here except a plain stretch of wall. Even Dumbledore didn't know what its purpose was."

All four pairs of eyes flashed to the door as it burst open. My stomach lurched as I watched myself being dragged into the corridor, kicking and struggling, followed by six, tall boys, dressed in Gryffindor robes. Albus gave an audible hiss as Oscar, the last one to enter the corridor, closed the door behind him and smiled cruelly to me.

I noticed, with a jab of recognition, how much healthier I looked those three months ago. I was fuller in my appearance. My boyish frame carried some meat on it and my face was angular but not sharp and emaciated as it was in my present-day reflection. I hadn't realised how much thinner I had gotten recently, whether through stress or a small appetite and vowed to have a double helping of whatever the house-elves offered us for dinner that night.

"What the fuck do you want?"

McGonagall and Malfoy both raised their eyebrows at my first words but made no further comment on my foul language.

It was bizarre, watching myself from the third point of view. And it made everything look so much worse than it had felt at the time. I noted exactly how tight the boy holding me (I guessed his name was Jared based on the information James gave me) had my wrists clamped between his thick fingers.

"The little Slytherin princess is feisty. Surely a baby like you shouldn't know language like that!"

"Surely a near adult like you shouldn't be talking like a child" I saw my wand poking out from under my sleeve. Albus was eyeing it nervously. "I asked you a question, you troll. What. Do. You. Want."

I watched Oscar's face twist into that wicked leer and, as I heard my past self mock him, my present self noted Albus' face. He was white and pasty. His mouth was curled into a snarl, all of his teeth glowing in the darkness of the room.

And when Oscar brought his hand across my face, backhanding me hard, Professor Malfoy had to clamp his fingers hard onto Albus' shoulders to stop him lunging at the Gryffindor. I heard him whisper into Al's ear, "There's no point. This is the past. You won't make any difference from here. Control your emotions, Albus."

But as we listened to Oscars little speech regarding the raven-haired boy beside me, his muscles bunched, his hands balled into fists, and he hissed and hissed and hissed.