Munich, Germany

Long, bony fingers slid lightly over the cat’s orange fur in hypnotically repetitive strokes.  The cat didn’t seem to mind the passive attention from Kat Waldgraf as it lay curled up in the elder woman’s lap.  From where he sat in a chair opposite his grandmother, Sasha could see the ends of the cat’s whiskers vibrate with its purring as it dozed peacefully. 

It had been almost eight months since Sasha had last seen his grandmother, his last living relative from the family he’d grown up with.  Since the death of his younger sister and mother, Sasha had felt an increased sense of responsibility towards Oma Kat and had made a point to pay a visit whenever school holidays afforded him the opportunity. 

The conversation had already wondered down many disjointed and every-changing pathways in a manner that he’d grown to cherish for its very convolutedness.  Sasha had known for quite some time that the now 88-year-old woman could have another fourteen years ahead of her or only a month.  He was all too happy to suspend logic for the length of their conversations before making his departure, filled with the all too familiar hope that this wouldn’t be the last time they spoke.

”The gingerbread is always wonderful this time of year.  Do get some for yourself.”  The conversation had circled back around to Christmas Market activities.  ”And, those lovely chocolate fruits.  Aren’t they your favorite?”  She spoke so softly these days that Sasha had to lean in to follow the conversation.  Which meant the young man was constantly shifting in his seat as he leaned forward and then back to speak loud enough so she could hear. 

“Of course I will,” he said.  The long-term care facility’s resident cat was certainly more tolerant than many he’d met, which was probably why the orange tabby had secured the job.  The incessant petting and voices elevated to just below a shout didn’t seem to phase it.  “I had some just the other day.” 

”Did you?  Did you hear the horns?” 

He’d broken with tradition this past winter holiday.  Aside from Jacoba’s funeral at Konigsee, Sasha had remained in England for December and the Christmas Holidays.  He’d felt guilty for not telling Oma Kat of her granddaughter’s passing and had even wondered, at the time, if he should have made arrangements for her to attend the funeral.  But, the weather had been too cold.  And, he had known he would have had to repeat the news of Jacoba’s passing several times in different variations before his grandmother had understood.  Loosing her had been far too fresh to endure repeating the news over and over. 

Even now, Sasha wasn’t sure if his grandmother’s confusion was the result of age and dementia or if she was actually marking the passage of time by his visits.  Had some part of her anticipated that his next visit would have been at the Christmas Holidays?  Or, had the memories been brought forward at random?  Either way, there wasn’t much to be gained from trying to convince her it was Easter, not Christmas. 

”Has anyone checked the roast?”  The cat lifted its head as the older woman’s lap shifted in an attempt to get to her feet. 

A nurse paused outside Kat’s door and watched as Sasha helped his grandmother settle back in her chair, ready to step in should Kat start to struggle against the resistance.  But, the nurse seemed satisfied when Kat was seated back in her wheelchair and continued down the corridor. 

“No, there’s nothing you need to check.  You’ll be having dinner in the dining hall, like usual.”  He hesitated a moment, still not sure he was ready to cross that bridge.  If chances were slim she’d even remember, was there a point in telling her?

Of course there was.  Behind the confusion and tangents, she was still their grandmother.  And, Sasha had seen enough of what he thought were gestures of understanding that he knew she was still there.  He believed messages got through; it was just that the past and the present had a tendency to get mixed up in the process.  “It’s just us.  Maybe I’ll stop by this evening and join you for dinner.” 

”Everyone is coming over for dinner tonight?” Kat asked.  ”When will they be arriving?  We should make sure everything is in place.  Are the children home from school?  I do hope Marie brings them all.”

They’d had this conversation several times before.  Especially in the first year following his parents’ deaths, he’d felt compelled to correct her – to try and make sure she understood, if only to stop bringing up the topic.  During this past year, he’d started to accept it wasn’t entirely necessary and he’d become less persistent about reminding her.  He’d felt more comfortable simply believing she knew her daughter and youngest granddaughter had passed away; it was just, again, past memories intermingling with the present. He’d accepted he had an obligation to inform her of changes in the family when they happened, but not continually remind her. 

“It’s just us, now,” he said, looking down at the cat.  “Everyone else is gone.  Oma – Jac- Johanne got sick in December.  She-” 

”Clarice is sick?”  Kat looked up at Sasha in what he’d come to believe were one of those stark moments of clarity brought on, perhaps, by the recognition of the name.  ”I should make her some soup.”  Again, Sasha had to put a hand on her shoulder to prevent the woman from trying to rise from her chair.  There was some degree in comfort knowing that the only remaining member of the family was also the only one Sasha trusted would have met the news with the appropriate level of concern and regret. 

Throughout their childhood, Oma Kat had been the emotional hearth of their family.  In contrast to his mother’s detachment and Gerhard’s authoritarian role, Kat had kept her household warm and inviting and promoted the same whenever they visited.  And, she’d had just enough stubbornness and gumption to stand up to Gerhard during those visits.  When they disagreed over matters like ‘coddling children,’ it was usually Kat who won.  Of the adults in their family, she alone had opened her home to Jacoba after their parents had disowned her and kicked her out.  Kat had given Jacoba the means to return to school.  She’d even attempted to include Jacoba in holiday gatherings, so that Sasha and Anna could see her. 

Gerhard had been very quick to relocate his mother-in-law to a nursing facility when her cognitive abilities had started to deteriorate. 

“There was nothing they could do.  She’s –“  His voice faltered and he looked down at his hands.  “There was an epidemic.  Many got sick and she didn’t get better.” 

”Who is sick?  Do we need to call the doctor?”

“No, the doctors can’t help.  It’s not that kind of sickness.  And-“  Sasha’s voice faltered, slightly, and he looked down at the cat curled in his grandmother’s lap.  He reached out to stroke the cat’s head with a finger but the look the cat cast him made it clear one petting hand was sufficient.  “It won’t do any good.  She’s gone.  Johanne passed away.” 

”I know a lovely doctor in Munich.  I’m sure he can swing by and see her.”

With a long, slow, settling breath Sasha sat back in his seat and folded his hands in his lap.  He ignored the part of him that longed for her to understand enough for them to share the grief.  But, he knew he risked agitating her in the attempt and there was little to be gained from that.  “No, Oma.  There’s no need to call a doctor.”

Sasha grew quiet and looked down at his hands in his lap, blinking back tears as he listened to the general noise out in the corridor.  He felt a sudden rush of frustration.  There was so much he wanted to tell her, to share with her.  He’d spent so many years stepping from the stage of his home, muggle identity to the stage of his stage of his school, wizarding identity and now, she was all that was left of that former identity – that former life.  But, she was immediated family.  He had a right to tell her, didn’t he?  Even if she were to try and repeat it, her caregivers would likely chalk it up to Frau Waldgraf confusing reality with some TV show. 

 “I’ll be graduating from school, soon,” he offered, hopeful she’d accept the diversion.  After a moment’s hesitation, he added: “It’s a school for people who can do magic, like me.  And, I met my father there – my real father; he’s a professor.  He’s also a wizard.  Like me.”   

Again, his grandmother seemed to watch him with that distinct unwavering intensity.  Had she recognized any of that?  Had that dredged up some past, hidden memory?  Sasha had wondered before if his grandmother had known more than she’d revealed.  One of her brothers-in-law had been a wizard and had fought alongside Grindelwald.  He’d died long before Kat had married Sasha’s grandfather, but was there still a possibility that she’d connected Sasha with family history?  Had she known of his magical abilities or had she recognized it in Sasha?  Had Sasha’s mother ever confided in her own mother about the affair? 

It could have been a moment of recognition or it could have been exhaustion brought on by a visit that was starting to exceed the older woman’s stamina.  The nurses would likely be by in a few minutes to help Kat into her bed for a rest. 

“A few weeks ago, I thought I was going to lose him, too.  And, I’m not even really-“   Right on cue, Sasha was stopped short as soft-soled footsteps came up behind him from the corridor.  He took a step back out of the way as the nurse busied herself with helping Kat Waldgraf into her bed.  In the last few weeks, Sasha’s head had been cycling through various what-ifs that could have arisen.  Following the most recent panic-inducing trip to St. Mungo’s and the subsequent all-too-familiar hopeless waiting for what seemed an inevitable outcome, the value of waiting for the perfect time to become, at least, acquainted with additional members of that whole other side of the family seemed to have lessened. 

Once Kat was settled, Sasha shifted his chair next to her bed and took one of her hands in his.  He knew from experience that sleep usually came to Oma Kat quickly and there was still so much he wanted to tell her.  And, so much he needed to do before Monday.  He needed to meet with the administrator at the care facility before catching the overnight train back to London that evening.  But, all of that could wait for a few more moments.  In fact, he had two months before the he’d be leaving the relative sanctuary of Hogwarts and heading out into the real world.  He’d already accepted that he wouldn’t be enjoying the benefits of a gradual transition into adulthood.  Now that it was just the two of them, and he was a legal adult at 18, responsibility for the estate, his future and his grandmother’s care were officially his. 

“After I finish school, would you like to move up to London?”  Sasha leaned forward in his chair, crossed his arms on the edge of his grandmother’s bed and rested his head on his arms.  “Once I’m no longer away all year and the new house is built, there’s no reason for you to be alone here.”  It would be easy enough to hire a nurse.  Or, better yet, take on a house elf.  However one went about that.  That was the flipside, wasn’t it?  Come June, along with the responsibility would come the freedom to rebuild his life.  He’d be able to start defining it on his own terms.   

His grandmother had drifted well into the depths of sleep when Sasha rose to his feet and pulled his coat over his shoulders.  He let himself out of his grandmother’s room and made his way to the nurses’ station to sign out.  After dinner that evening, he needed to return to England.  There were bank accounts to move, house plans to finalize and family bridges to build.