Arlo offered Mikhail a weak smile. He appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood, though he couldn’t say it had been very successful. Making sure his wand was still in his pocket, where he wouldn’t be tempted to draw it and defend himself, he set his jaw. He knew enough about the process to understand it wouldn’t hurt, but there was a very good chance he was about to relive some of his most traumatic memories, and he didn’t know how to make himself comfortable with that. Not when he hadn’t even shared half of them with James. Trying to keep Mikhail’s advice in mind, not thinking too much, or too little, he stood waiting for him to cast the spell.
His breath catching in his throat, he realised everything he had done to ‘prepare’ had been entirely pointless. It wasn’t painful, he had been right about that. But it felt like somebody was clawing at his brain, pulling at his memories, specifically the bad ones, the private ones, the ones he was trying to repress. He was overly aware of the fact that what he could see, Mikhail could see too, but he didn’t feel as though he had any control over the situation. He was viewing himself, as if from outside of his body. Arlo at five years old, biting down on a trembling bottom lip, hiding a tiny hand beneath his dress robes. A stinging hex, that was his father’s favourite way to make sure he was alert and composed. He would only remove it when he had earned back his favour. He couldn’t remember what he had done wrong on that particular day, but it had happened so many times, did it really matter?
And then he was seven, curled on the floor of his ensuite after emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. He had spoken out of turn, embarrassed his parents at an event they were hosting, and had been rewarded with a hex or a curse that caused a painful ache to spread throughout his body. It had escalated as the night progressed until it had made him sick. And then a memory with James… the first time they had kissed. That wasn’t for Mikhail to see, he didn’t want Mikhail to see. He tried, with all of his might, to block the spell, to shut it down. But he wasn’t strong enough. They were fifteen, awkward and skinny. Clumsy in their desperate show of affection. And then it stopped. As suddenly as the memories had bombarded him, he had control again, he could think clearly. Blinking, he was surprised to find himself kneeling on the floor, struggling to catch his breath.
“I’m okay-” He insisted, before Mikhail could ask. He carefully pulled himself to his feet, knowing it was useless. Chances were he was going to fall again, but it helped him to feel more dignified than he had. He couldn’t bring himself to look his tutor in the eye, so he swallowed, staring at the floor of the Shack. Scratches still marred the wood, even after all this time. Teddy’s father had left those marks, that was a strange thought. Swallowing, he forced himself to focus, he was becoming distracted and he had been actively warned against that. “I’m okay, we can try again.”
There were very few things Mikhail could truly say he hated in life, but this? It reminded him far too much of the things that had been done to him at school. Dark magic was a hidden staple at Durmstrang, and it probably still was, despite everything they said about no longer teaching, practicing, or using it against students. His own lessons of legimency had brought up horrible memories that he didn’t know he had. Some of his birth family, some of leaving them, some of the first few nights he had spent with his new family, and everything in between. Watching awful experiences run through somebody else’s mind didn’t sit well with him, but he was doing this to help benefit Arlo.
The memories of abuse struck Mikhail to his core, not because he could completely relate to them, he’d barely had a family for most of his life, because it was hard to see the boy in front of him look so feeble. It didn’t help that almost none of the memories were necessarily better than the last. They started bad and just got worse from there, until they landed on one of his Hogwarts experiences. Mikhail didn’t know the context of any of these memories, but he recognized James, the man hadn’t changed that much in the years since Hogwarts. Taller and bulkier yes, but that was about it. Considering Mikhail didn’t know where this memory would lead, and not wanting to overdo their first attempt, he pulled back. Having been pushed too far his first session of legimency, Mikhail knew how awful it would feel if he didn’t give Arlo breaks at the correct times.
“I know you are,” he replied, “It’s painful for reasons that’s aren’t easily healed.” Now that Arlo had experienced it, he would know exactly what Mikhail was talking about. It was also why Mikhail was going to give him a break, regardless of what Arlo asked for. “Have I ever told you what happened to my eye?” The answer was no, of course, Mikhail hadn’t told anybody what happened to his eye except for the people at school who needed to know. It seemed odd to launch in to a random story about himself after what had happened a moment ago. “I assume you know I didn’t go to Hogwarts?”
