Chapter Nineteen - Sisa's Memory.

August 5th, 1970.

Five years ago.

I look over the hamlet, trying to remember the view from the hill to save it in my mind forever. The six spanish villas, made from sandstone that's still visible even in the dim light as the sunset fades and the sky begins to darken. The cave houses, clustered along one side of the mountain to the left of the town from where I look at it, candlelight flickering in the windows, though their owners are absent. And the gathering of dancers and tents where a group of visiting travellers - not gypsies, just roving Spaniards in caravans - where I can see the party is still going on, the sound of a violin drifting through the night, then the rhythm of tambourines, the wild strumming of a guitar joining in a few moments later. I can even see the dancers, their skirts flying as they begin to dance to my Mother's favorite tune, to use the steps my Mother choreographed herself. But this time, she's not among them.

''Maria! Maria, we must go now!'' That's her, hissing from behind me, dressed in Muggle clothes and looking plain and old, her face weary as she tries to move me, speaking wildly in Spanish. ''Maria, come! Now!''

I turn on her in a flash. ''My name is Sisa. And I am not going.'' I turn back to look on down on the valley once more.

My Mother sighs audibly from behind me, then approaches in a gentler way, placing her hand on my arm. ''Look, Sisa, we have to get out of here. Your Father's people - they aren't like normal Gypsies. You know that. If they find out we're gone before we get far enough away, they'll track us down and...'' Her voice trails off and she looks at me, grey eyes imploring. ''Do you want me to be hurt, Sisa?''

I shake her hand off my arm. ''They are my people.'' I spit, close to her face. ''I cannot leave them, Mother. You tricked me into coming up here, but I will not go any further.''

''Maria, we have to get away.'' Her voice is suddenly hard, and her hand moves to grip my arm tightly now. ''You know I cannot stay here.''

''Why!'' I turn round, eyes blazing as I regard her with contempt. ''Tell me why, Mother - tell me why you really have to go.''

''You know why.'' She says quietly, though her voice is dangerous. ''Your father and I-''

''Argued. It does not mean you cannot make peace.'' I snap, cutting across her. I have no patience for my manipulative mother, not at the moment. ''We can stay here. I will stay here.''

My Mother looks furious, anger glowing in her usually calm grey eyes. Suddenly, she moves to pull out a piece of parchment from the pocket of her coat, thrusting it in my face and whispering aggressively. ''Maria, you have been invited to be schooled at Hogwarts! You can get a proper education, you can make friends who don't....who aren't...'' Her voice trails off and she begins again as I glare at her. ''You can start again. You can see the world - meet your family-''

''My family are right here.'' I cut across savagely. 'And I do not want to be educated. I do not want to be cultivated. I don't want to be put in a box and trapped like you were - like you will be. I want to stay here, and I will.''

''I am your Mother.'' Suddenly my Mother is speaking in English, suddenly her face has drained of all patience and feeling. ''I am your Mother and you are coming with me.''

I look at her in disbelief. Her face is pale now, not the tanned shade it was when she was living with the Gypsy clan happily. She's dressed in ordinary Muggle clothes - a long coat, baggy jumper and trousers, trainers on her feet. Her long and waving dark hair, the envy of many Gypsy women in the village, is bundled into a cloth she wears round her head. Her face has gained several more lines in the past few weeks, and there is no sense of carefree spirit in her expression anymore. It has happened. My Mother has given into her foolish, greedy spirit. I look at her with loathing and hiss my reply maliciously, my voice gradually growing louder as my speech progresses.

''You are not my Mother.'' I say with venom, speaking in Spanish once more. '' My Mother was the woman who danced through the night on New Year’s Eve and was admired by the whole of the Gypsy clan. My Mother was the woman who embraced her inner passion and threw away her cares for the world outside our society. My Mother was the witch who added to my power and fell in love with my wild father.'' I pause, glaring at her with furious eyes. ''But my Mother is gone. And with her my love for that woman. You mean nothing to me anymore; you pathetic, muggle-like excuse for a witch.'' She's pale and looks like a ghost now, and I have done my work. My words have got through to her, and she knows it was inevitable someone spoke them to her - though she certainly wasn't expecting her ten-year-old daughter to say them.

''I will not go with you.'' I finish. ''You are no longer my Mother, and no longer the boss of me. You may go, but I will stay.'' Turning my back, I walk towards the path that takes me back down to the Hamlet. But all of a sudden, she grabs my arm and pulls me back, wrestling me into her arms and bringing one hand up to cover my mouth. It's over in a flash, but I recognise the pungent smell of the Anesthetical potion I learnt to brew only last week, a mixture that knocks the victim out quickly and for a long time. But even then, I still have time to think one last thought as blackness engulfs me.

My Mother is no longer my Mother - My Mother is my captor. She shall imprison me forever more.