Retrospection

Lori was true to her word of not making further appointments for Susy with her “amnesia experts;” but Susy thought it was hardly coincidental that she met so many people who just happened to be in the profession of understanding the mind at their dinner parties, dances, and other evening activities. There was also no ignoring of the mysterious appearances of books such as How To Cope? An In-Depth Study of Amnesia and the Effects on Both the Victim and Their Families by Walter H. Hopgood and A Loss of Memory, a Loss of Life by Reginald G. Kirpatrick; nor the strange bottles of choline, lecithin, and rosemary oil which were supposed to help with memory retention that she would find in her bedroom. When she found Blank Memory: What It Means to Not Remember Your Past (Written Phonetically For Those Who Have Forgotten How to Read) she nearly stormed into Lori’s room to hand over her resignation and tell her exactly where she could put such a ridiculous book. It was only the familiar “You’ve got mail!” from her laptop computer that stopped her.

Over the last two months, Jarett had forwarded the weekly e-mails of Nancy’s research to Susy. So far, only confirmation of birth certificates and immigration records and a few newspaper articles had been found for Lori and Applegate; but she felt that given enough time Nancy would find something useful to aid Susy’s subtle rebellion—not that she’d ever dream of publishing it, but it might turn out to be an excellent source of leverage at some point in the future. But even after suggesting that Nancy look for a “Lorelei Applegate,” she was unable to find anything more than a legal name change form for Lori and a few grade school report cards for her brother and her. Applegate also had several speeding tickets and a restraining order against him from a former employee. And as for Professor Alastor Moody, she had hoped to ask him about his school the next time she met with him, but had not seen him since their first meeting. There was no evidence as to where he received his teaching license from or where he was currently teaching. In fact, Nancy was positive that he was using a pseudonym because she was unable to even find his birth certificate.

As to Lori’s biography, it was nearing completion towards the end of June. The report cards matched what Lori had said about having been an exceptional student in grade school, and the newspaper articles confirmed her story about her return to Salt Lake and the subsequent changes to improve her father’s business. The only areas that were lacking in details were the seven years she attended her private school and the following two years. Susy wondered how she could have been so careless and began rummaging through all of her notes late one afternoon. She had recently organized her research by when it had occurred chronologically, so it was easy to spot the school years that only contained two pages of notes and a cassette tape. She could curse herself for being so negligent. She popped the cassette into a tape player and listened to an early interview with Lori.

“So, your family moved back to England when you were accepted at school?”

“That’s correct.”

“And the name of this school?”

“I—uh—don’t seem to remember.”

“Lori, it doesn’t sound very professional to say ‘she attended a prestigious school of which she doesn’t remember the name.’ I need you to remember.”

“Hogwarts.”

“Hog-what?”

“Hogwarts School.”

“Interesting name. And you were there for 7 years?”

“Yes.”

Susy couldn’t help thinking upon listening to the tape again that Lori was leaving something out; something that would make all the difference in the world. There was a pause on the tape and then she heard Tamara hiss at Lori as she came into range of the microphone.

“Your cat isn’t part Kneazle, is she?”

“Of course not. Her tail’s not that long. So, Lori tell me about your some of your friends at school.”

Susy stopped and rewound the tape. Her tail’s not that long. What on earth was a Kneazle? And how did she know that it had a long tail? After a look in her dictionary she was still confused—there was nothing there. A quick search on the Internet also provided nothing but more frustration. The more she tried to concentrate on the matter, the more elusive it felt. Giving up, she left her desk in the study, opened a window in the parlor across the hall to let in some fresh air, and collapsed on the sheet-covered sofa. It was probably just the unusual heat that summer, or perhaps a combination of dust and paint-fumes from the remodeling that Lori had hired out to redo her grandmother’s cottage; but whatever the cause, Susy was definitely feeling worse than she had yesterday. Her nose was stuffed up, her head was pounding, and she was so dizzy when standing up that she avoided it a much as possible. She rolled over onto her side, hoping that a nap would make her feel better, and shut her eyes. Because Lori had returned to London for a business meeting and no one else was at home, Susy shouldn’t have had any troubles, but sleep was also eluding her. Her back ached—she rolled her shoulders and tried to ignore it. A bird started warbling outside the open window—she considered closing it, but knew that the heat would force her to open it again before long. The bird suddenly stopped singing and it sounded like he had flown away. The reason soon became apparent as Susy heard Tamara’s padded feet walk across the plastic painting tarp towards her. Don’t jump, she thought. Go away! Don’t jump up here! But her cat ignored her thoughts and leapt up onto the sofa near her feet only to meet a gentle kick from Susy’s leg. Tamara hopped back down onto the plastic, meowed angrily, and traipsed off into some unknown part of the cottage. Susy sighed and rolled onto her back. Taking a nap was becoming harder than it was supposed to be. She tried to even out her breathing. As she rubbed her eyes, some of the swirling colors began to conglomerate. She focused on making the colors slow and take shape…

Slowly, a warm and cozy kitchen came into view. A woman stood piling dishes while the sink filled with water. Her chestnut-colored hair was in a tight bun, although a few strands had come loose and gently caressed the back of her neck. Her lime green robe, normally ironed to perfection, was wrinkled and spotted with odds-and-ends from her work the previous night. One of the woman’s stocking feet rubbed against the other before coming back to the cold yet perfectly polished wooden floor. She seemed so tired, yet strangely determined to keep her home in order. A few feet away, a toddler with bright red hair sat in a high chair playing in the remains of his lunch. The light from the fireplace to his right seemed to make his hair ignite while casting subtle shadows on his older brother, who was sitting quietly at the table reading a rather large book for a five-year old. Across the table a girl sat with a stack of school books completing her homework. She set her quill down and looked longing in the next room at where the Christmas tree and presents would appear on Christmas morning. The woman at the sink cleared her throat and the girl went back to writing her essay.

I know her, Susy thought. And in her mind, Susy slowly drifted above this girl, noticing that her auburn hair draped over her shoulders the same way as Susy’s did. She added an extra flourish to the letters in her essay, just as Susy would if she were writing it. The girl’s hands were the same as Susy’s were—the same long fingers with the same freckles on the back. And as she recognized her younger self, she slipped into her.

She slammed her school book closed and shouted victoriously, “Done!”

“Tara!” her mother said whisking around angrily from the pile of dishes she had just set to washing themselves, “If you wake up those twins, you’ll be the one to watch them. Merlin knows that I’ve had a time of it trying to get them to take a nap in the first place.” As funny as her three-year old cousins often were, she didn’t relish the thought of having to keep them under control. “Why don’t you go outside and play for a while?”

“But Mum…it’s snowing.”

“And take Percy with you,” her mother continued ignoring her protest as she began to clean up the mess her youngest cousin, Ron, was making out of the remains of his lunch. She should probably be more understanding of her mother’s frustrations. After all, Uncle Arthur had flooed over at six o’clock in the morning with his youngest sons before Disapparating back to be with Aunt Molly, Bill, Charlie, and his four month old daughter who was sick with dragon pox. His two older sons had already had it, but the four youngest had not. Her mother had just returned from working the late shift at St. Mungo’s and was not pleased to find herself in charge of the additional children, especially when her husband was out of town and it was only two days until Christmas. She had quickly found places for the boys to sleep and set to work of quietly cleaning up what Fred and George had already overturned.

“Come on, Percy,” she said fastening her cloak.

“I don’t want to. It’s too cold,” the boy said from behind his book.

She glanced at her mother. “Well, go on then,” her mother said as she added Ron’s dishes to the decreasing pile by the sink.

Upset at the injustice of being forced to go outside, she slammed the door closed and deliberately jumped into a large pile of snow knowing that when she finally went back in, she would drip dirty water all over her mother’s spotless floor. Being eleven wasn’t any fun at all. She had to act grown up and could not play games anymore—at least when anyone was looking. She glanced around carefully, but no one was in sight.

“And now we continue with the final adventures of Susy Blake: ace reporter for The Daily Prophet. When we last left our heroine,” she said, ducking behind a tree, “she had just discovered that her cousin—the internationally famous Quidditch player, Eddie Johnson, had been banished to the land of ‘Gro Nup.’ It is up to her to rescue him and save the world from a fate worse than death.”

After hiding behind every tree in her yard, she double-checked that the coast was clear and sprinted up the hill and into the greenhouse. “She successfully scales Mount Everest for the twentieth time and crosses the border into India. But alas, the guide that was supposed to lead her across the dangerous and uncharted Indian jungles contracts dragon pox. Susy Blake, having decided to go into reporting rather than healing, is at a loss for she can not help the man.” She sunk to her knees between the rose and flutterby bushes looking forlorn. “If only she hadn’t been in the jungle, or had happened to have carried the saving potion with her. She must watch as he slowly suffers and dies,” she said switching roles and reenacted the man’s agonizing death by collapsing onto the floor.

“And just as our heroine decides that her fate cannot get any worse, she comes face to face with an occamy protecting its nest. Now, any fully trained witch should be able to handle an occamy with her wand,” she said, searching her pockets frantically while retreating from the imaginary beast, “But lo and behold, Susy Blake not only has lost herself, she has lost her wand. Mum’s going to kill me. The beast chases her away from its nest and traps her inside a dark, dank, and depressing cave. Will she starve before the occamy gives up? No! Never fear! Although she is wandless, she has not left behind her trusty Muggle…er, what’s it called? Oh, that’s right, her Muggle revolver,” she exclaimed as she placed her forefingers and thumbs together and laced her remaining digits. “She fires a warning shot frightening the occamy away and she is safe to leave the confines of the cave and continue the search for her missing cousin.”

She crawled out from underneath her cave-like table and pushed her way through two Flitterbloom plants. “Word has just flown in that Eddie Johnson might be being held captive in the evil castle of Crouchania.” As she quietly left the greenhouse and began crawling behind the bushes towards the manor house, she whispered, “Whatever shall she do? For she has been forbidden to enter Crouchania by its governor, Barty Crouch Jr., due to a slight misunderstanding over the completely accidental destruction of one of his favorite ‘Stubby Boardman and the Hobgoblins’ albums.” She opened the back door and peered inside. “She does have one ally in this evil castle, though—the slave of the king and queen of Crouchania named Winky. If Susy Blake can contact her, she’ll be able to know if her cousin is held within the confines of castle. Otherwise, our heroine will be left to wander the dark and barren land for days.” She ran along the dark hallway sliding to a stop inches before an open door. “To be on the safe side, Susy Blake will assume the identity of the gardener’s daughter who is merely on her way to borrow a book from the king’s library.” She rolled her shoulders back and walked meekly down towards the end of the hall.

Reaching it undetected, she peered cautiously around the corner. In the library, several men were frantically searching through books, papers and files. Odd, she thought, nobody’s supposed to be here at this time of day. And although she was curious as to what they were looking for, it was the light coming from under a door a few yards away that drew her attention. “What’s he doing home?” She tip-toed towards the door and gently pushed it open a crack so she could see what was going on. Inside was not Mr. Crouch as she had originally thought, but a strange woman that reminded her of the mysterious woman who lead the hero into a trap from one of Bill’s old Mad Muggle comic books. The woman cursed as she searched Mr. Crouch’s study.

“Barty, you can’t possibly tell me your father doesn’t bring anything from work home with him,” the woman said throwing a file across the room.

She could not see Barty but it sounded like he might be going through his father’s desk behind the door. “Maybe the others have found something in the library, but I doubt it. I told you before, Mrs. Lestrange…”

The woman ran her hands down the side of her robes and walked out of sight towards Barty. “Mrs. Lestrange was my mother-in-law. Call me Bella.”

From outside the room she was wondered why it suddenly got quiet within, when the doorbell rang causing those inside and out to jump in surprise.

“I should get that,” Barty said weakly.

“Let the house elf answer the door. That’s what it’s for.”

“But the door…it’s probably Lori. You’d better gather the others and leave.”

“Barty, when are you going to tell your little girlfriend about your other friends? We’d love to meet her,” the woman said nearly laughing.

“Look, it’s not that easy…I really should answer the door.”

To avoid being discovered, she quickly slipped into one of the many guestrooms across the hall and breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, she was not the only one in the room. Before she could scream, the tall, dark haired man had pushed her aside and muttered a spell to lock the door before turning around to deal with her.

“What do you think you are doing, you little twit? Who are you?”

“I was looking for…for a book.”

“Don’t lie to me, girl. WHO are you?” He peered down at her over his crooked nose.

“I was just playing.”

“You’ve chosen a dangerous playground. But WHO are you?”

His dark eyes seemed to pore into her and she thought that giving the truth would be best. “I’m just the gardener’s daughter. Who are you?”

“Who? WHO? WHOOOOOOOOOOO…”

“OUCH! AAAGGGHHHHHH!!!”

As Susy had opened her own, the deep black eyes that had been drilling her for information were replaced by large yellow ones. Her scream had startled the owl so that he flew to a shelf across the room. She sat up and glanced quickly at her finger. It was red, but was not bleeding.

“You didn’t have to bite so hard, you nasty old thing. How did you get in here anyway?”

As if he had heard her, the owl turned his head and looked at the open window. When he saw that she understood, wary of another outburst, he cautiously flew over and held out his leg with a large envelope attached. She removed it; then realized how outlandish it was to have an owl deliver her mail. And yet—something inside of her wanted to believe that this was how it should always be done. She opened the envelope to find two letters addressed to her.


Charlie? Her mind wandered for a moment back to Salt Lake as she thought of the only Charlie she could remember. She could see her old friend smiling at her as he offered encouragement and glimpses of the past during each elevator ride. He had known the real story of Lori’s life, since he’d been there for over fifty years. But why would he be writing to her? And why would his letter be delivered by an owl that could barely fly straight?

“Charlie?” Her mouth dropped open in surprise as a thought popped into her mind. “Charlie…Weasley. Oh! I’ve remembered something!” She ripped open the second letter hoping to confirm her suspicions.


Still in shock from the contents of the hastily-written, ink-splattered letter, Susy tried to recall all that she knew of her pen friend. He came from a large family that lived in England, although he had lived and worked in Romania for the last several years. She and Eddie had been writing ever since she could remember. In fact, it was from his first letter, in which he had introduced himself to her and told of his joy of having someone to write to, that she and Jarett had been able to find her name and apartment address after her accident. But there had to be more that she knew about Eddie! Or perhaps there had been some mistake. Maybe she had accidentally received someone else’s owl-delivered letter. But the probability that that individual was also named Susy Blake and had correspondence with an Eddie Johnson who spontaneously broke into Romanian when upset was practically non-existent. Eddie Johnson and Charlie Weasley must be one and the same.

But why the charade? Why did he use a pseudonym for all of these years? Why not just give her his real name? She quickly skimmed back over his letter; and her eyes froze at the word “cousin.” He had once written that he knew nothing of her family. But if he had lied about his name, what else could he have misled her about? He obviously was concerned about her welfare, just like she had been concerned about the boy’s…Eddie Johnson…in her make-believe adventure of her dream. But it was only a dream—wasn’t it? Susy had to admit that she’d never had a dream that vivid before. It was almost like—like a memory. But that’s impossible, she thought pushing away the very idea. She had probably just subconsciously inserted herself and Eddie’s name into her dream. After all she had been pretending to be a nosy reporter. But she and Eddie had been cousins in the dream as well. She strained her mind to remember more. There had been another boy, and a toddler. Yet the boys’ mother wasn’t there. She was with the sick baby. Aunt Molly was with her sick baby. Susy glanced at the first letter and the nice even handwriting of Molly Weasley; tears came to her eyes as she realized the possibilities.

“Stop being so melodramatic, you ninny,” she scolded herself wiping her eyes. “Think! What else was there?”

The toddler’s name was Ron. She scrambled up from the sofa, pausing momentarily to let her head adjust and for her balance to return, then rushed to the desk in her bedroom. She quickly found Eddie’s letter from two months ago, and scanned it for what she hoped and feared would be there.


It was there. Ron doesn’t object. She had a cousin named Ron. And one named Charlie. She had Aunt Molly, Uncle Arthur, and other cousins. As the tears flowed, unstopped this time, she pondered on how large her family could be. Were the Weasleys related to her mother or her father? Were there other aunts and uncles; more cousins to get to know? And would they know her? Would they know what had happened to her? The tears stopped as a sudden burst of anger ran through her. Why had Eddie, or rather Charlie, withheld all of this from her? Did he think that she wouldn’t be able to handle it? When she thought of the number of times he had written of the joys his family brought to him and her heart had ached in longing, she threw a nearby book across the room in frustration. It wasn’t fair! But his letter did sound like he was concerned for her. He wanted to know why she had returned to England—she must have been there before. He was amazed that she hadn’t been killed yet. Was her life in danger? Could Charlie’s pseudonym have been part of a plan to protect her? Or to protect himself? Hadn’t Applegate once made mention of a “Weasley Project” months ago back in Salt Lake City?

She was grateful when the door bell rang to allow her an escape from the exponential growth of questions that the two letters had brought with them. She wiped her eyes and ran a hand through her hair before heading for the door. Tamara was already waiting anxiously for her in the front hallway.

“Well, don’t get so excited, Tamara. It’s probably just some door-to-door salesman.” Tamara ignored her and pawed at the door as if trying to open it herself. “Well, what’s got into you?” Susy hadn’t seen her cat this animated since she was a kitten. “Who is it?” she asked through the door.

“Delivery.”

“Delivery? At this hour?” She unlocked the door and was met with a brilliant bunch of gerbera daisies. The cheerful flowers in different hues and shades of red, yellow, and orange reminded her of some of the extraordinary sunsets over the Great Salt Lake. They seemed to bob their heads in friendly anticipation of what was to come. “Oh, they’re beautiful!”

“Thank you for affirming that my knowledge of flowers hasn’t diminished over the years,” the deliver man hastily spoke. “But my hand is getting burnt as I speak, so may I come in?”

“Burnt? What do you…”

“Woman, move!” he roared tossing her the bouquet as he brushed her aside. He hastily came inside and set a large square box on a table in the hallway. “Great Merlin, that hurts. I don’t know how Muggles do it.”

“Well, most people use pot holders to protect their hands when handling hot objects, Mr. Lupin,” she said closing the door. “Besides, it can’t be that warm if you’ve traveled all the way here with it. It must of left the oven, what, twenty minutes ago?”

“No,” he answered calmly rubbing his fingers, “it was more like forty-five seconds.”

“But….how…how did you get here so quickly then?”

His reply was promptly given as he stooped to pet Tamara who had been circling around his feet. “Magic.”

“Right—why didn’t I think of that?” She rolled her eyes, before bending to pick up her cat. “Traitor,” she muttered in her ear. Standing slowly, she looked him directly in the eye. “May I ask what exactly you’re doing here?”

“It’s quite simple, really. I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I decided to pop in to visit. I also heard that your—gracious hostess—has left you for more sociable people and fancier food,” he added sarcastically. “I brought you something to eat that’s a little more down to Earth.” He motioned towards the still steaming pizza box.

“You sure seem to hear a lot,” she looked away momentarily before continuing. “Why should I even trust you, Mr. Lupin?”

“Please, call me Remus. And if you don’t trust me, it will be a waste of a good shrimp and pineapple pizza.”

“That’s my favorite! How did you know?”

“I have my ways,” he said with a mysterious grin.

Logically, her mind was screaming for more questions, more information before allowing him to stay; but her pulse had quicken ever since he had walked in, almost as if her heart wanted to trust him—not to mention her stomach. She hadn’t eaten all day—and it would be a waste of a good pizza if she threw him out. “Well, alright. But after we’re done eating I want the truth and a full, detailed explanation.”

“Agreed.”

Fifteen minutes later in the kitchen with an empty pizza box, Tamara decided to break the ice by jumping up onto the table. She walked towards Remus and hopped down into his lap. She brushed against his chest, licked a small string of cheese from his chin, and then laid down on his lap looking quite content and comfortable.

Amused by her cat’s actions, Susy muttered, “Odd. She normally doesn’t take to strangers.”

“Hmmm…” was the only reply she got in return. He seemed too involved in scratching under Tamara’s chin to fully hear her comment.

She decided to take advantage of his momentary distraction to examine the man who had bewitched her cat and captivated her own thoughts. He looked like he was feeling better. She remembered that when she had seen him last, she thought he had been sick with the flu. His hair was in need of a trim and, if possible, seemed a bit grayer than two months ago. Though very well-kept, his shirt had seen better days. The cuffs were slightly ragged; the fabric over his shoulders had worn thin; and there was a small patch neatly sewn on his chest pocket. Unlike Lori’s brother, Steven Applegate, Remus Lupin’s appearance would not earn him a place in a fashion magazine; but Susy couldn’t imagine him posing in one of Applegate’s black designer suits for the photographer anyway. No, she thought, I like him just the way he is.

Embarrassed at her last thought, she glanced out the window for a moment to gather her thoughts before turning back towards him. She was startled to find him smiling at her as he stroked her cat; and uncertain of what he was thinking, she decided that the time had come to find out the truth behind his visit. “Remus, as much as I love pizza—and don’t get me wrong, because it was a really good pizza; you simply can’t get that combination in Salt Lake—but I don’t think your reason for coming here was to feed me.”

Dropping his eyes, he replied, “What would you say if I told you that I was here to guarantee that you smiled at least once today?”

In spite of herself, a smile crept across her face. “I’d say that you accomplished one item, but that you’re stalling in getting to your real agenda.”

“Suppose I’m here to make sure that our scheduled dinner from two months ago actually occurs this time. As I recall, I ended up waiting an hour before deciding that you weren’t going to show up.” Considering the extent of time, she was surprised to hear a touch of bitterness in his voice. “You could have at least left a message at the front desk explaining that you didn’t want to come. I would have understood; it wouldn’t have been the first time.”

“I did leave a message at the front desk. You didn’t get it?” He shook his head. “I spent all morning trying to perfectly explain my disappointment. I really wanted to go; there was so much that I wanted to talk to you about. That is so strange, that you didn’t get it. Lori and I were actually on our way to—well, here for the weekend, with a short detour to visit another hopeless amnesia doctor. She said that she would drop off my letter while I finished getting ready. I can’t believe you didn’t get it.” She blushed slightly as she realized she was rambling. “Sorry. I guess it makes sense, then, why I never heard from you after that.”

“I thought you had lost interest.”

“No, not at all,” she hastily said before realizing all that could be implied from that statement. She continued in spite of his discerning grin, “So, the reason you’re here again is, what?”

“Actually, I came to see you. I heard you were ill.”

“It’s a small cold, nothing more,” she said coldly, on the verge of losing her temper after his third attempt in a row at diverting the conversation. “You haven’t stopped by during the last two months at all, despite the fact that you thought I stood you up; and all of a sudden you come waltzing in here tonight with dinner and flowers. You can’t tell me that there’s nothing behind it! And besides, I haven’t told anyone about being sick. I don’t know where you could have heard that from.” She knew that she was being unreasonable and that he didn’t really deserve to be yelled at, but she couldn’t stop all of her frustrations from pouring from her mouth. “Don’t lie to me, Remus, because I’m not buying it. The truth—now!”

Lupin stared into her eyes, analyzing if she could handle what he was about to reveal. Susy was tempted to look away, but knew if she did all would be lost. Just when she thought he would never give in, he sighed and became very serious. “You’re right. I do have an alternative motive. I came to warn you that you might be in danger. We’ve been investigating Ms. Rouselore and…”

“We? Are you a spy?”

“What? Um…no!”

“Are you always this articulate, or just when you’re lying to me?”

He sighed again heavily, stood up with Tamara still in his arms, and walked over to gaze out the window above the kitchen sink. Muttering angrily to himself, he said, “I never could lie to you.” Slowly he turned to face her. “I’m not a spy, technically. In fact, the last profession I had, as I told you before, was as a teacher over a year ago. But as particular events have occurred in the recent months, I was asked to observe those connected with a certain influential family. Lorelei Rouselore had a relationship with the son of this family before he passed away thirteen years ago.”

“So you were never following me. It was always Lori.”

“Unfortunately so. But I know of someone who would delight in informing us that it was fate.”

“Like the correct alignment of the stars, and all that?” she asked incredulously. “If you were assigned to follow Lori, why did you stop? I mean, why the two month absence?”

“Just because you couldn’t see me,” he said elusively, “doesn’t mean I wasn’t there.”

She didn’t need to be a reporter to know that he was attempting to avoid answering the question and that she had very limited time left in which he would be willing to respond. However, she had other questions that she wanted answered before he stopped being so accommodating. “The girlfriend of someone who died years ago? That doesn’t sound like it’s all that important. You know, Lori’s never done anything really suspicious when I’ve been around.”

“I’ve noticed that. It’s when you’re not around that things seem to happen. For example, her attendance tonight at the charity ball of St. Mungo’s Hospital. When I left there an hour ago, she had just joined Maxim Pye and his wife at their table. What is it?”

At the very name of Dr. Pye, Susy began to shake her head in disbelief. “It all makes sense now. The books, the herbs, the medical advice—she got it all from him! She never gives up, does she?”

“So, I take it that you’ve met Maxim Pye.”

“Yes,” Susy replied rolling her eyes as she remembered the encounter. “But why do you think Lori was at the Pye’s table?”

“I don’t know. I was actually hoping that you could enlighten me.”

“What makes you think that I would know?” Her response looked like it confused him. “Oh, that’s right. I’m supposed to not only be her biographer but her ‘traveling companion’ as well. Sorry, stupid question.”

“Well, one would expect that plans would be discussed between the two of you.”

“Remus,” she began softly, “as much as I’d like to help you, I can’t yet.” She wanted to trust and help him, but a part of Susy felt like she was betraying Lori. She had known Lori personally for over two months now, whereas she had only known Lupin for a few days collectively. Lori had offered her a chance at making her dreams come true, as well as a substantial increase in salary; Lupin had offered her a dinner and some flowers. She couldn’t think of anything Lori had done that would be incriminating; but knowing the power of the press, she knew that any sentence or phrase could be twisted to fit one’s purpose. “I need to know why I should believe a thing you’ve said. What proof can you offer me that any of this is true?”

“I understand. I, too, would be wary of any stranger wanting information about one of my associates. Try this for a reason to trust me—because I know you. How else would I know your favorite pizza combination is shrimp and pineapple? You must admit it’s not very common. I’ve been ordered,” he rolled his eyes at the thought, “not to tell you much for your own protection. But I can tell you this. I do know you. I know that you never wear pink. You have an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but you’d rather be outside with your friends than spending that time studying and putting that knowledge to use. You’re too curious for your own good, but intensely loyal to your friends. I’ve never seen you give up on anything, even if something has frightened you nearly to death.” He continued ticking tidbits of information off on his fingers while ignoring the look of complete and utter shock on Susy’s face. “You’ve always thought you had too many freckles. Your first pet was a cat named Gifford when you were eleven. Your birthday is in two months on the nineteenth of August…”

“What?”

“Your birthday is August 19th.”

“And that would make me how old?”

“Twenty five.”

“I didn’t know. We tried all we could, but we could never find it out.” She was trying hard not to cry at the vast amount of information that she had received in two minutes. It was more than she had ever found in the previous four years. “You do know me.”

“We?”

“What? Oh, my friends Jarett from Salt Lake and Eddie—or rather, Charlie, from Romania. We searched everywhere we thought possible, but could never even find a fraction of what you’ve just told me.”

“Oh. Aut…um…Susy, may I ask you a few questions about Ms. Rouselore?”

“Sure. But isn’t that strange?”

“What?”

“Well, that you’ve been able to tell me so much about myself when three people couldn’t find out anything. And two of those three had jobs dealing with finding out information. And Charlie—well, I don’t really know what Charlie does, but he also couldn’t find out anything when he was visiting his family here in England.”

Warily, he asked, “What are you implying?”

Continuing cautiously, she replied, “Nothing, yet. You said that you weren’t a spy technically. But that doesn’t mean that you’re not a spy. And you said that you were given orders not to tell me things.” She was becoming agitated as her thoughts began to fly away with her. “So how do I know that all that of what you just told me wasn’t some elaborate story? Or what if it is true, but you were only told about it from your superiors? Or…”

But her last question was never vocalized; it was stopped from coming out of her mouth by his lips. She tried to push him away, but he enfolded his arms around her and drew her closer. Surprised at Lupin’s sudden display of passion, she stood amazed for a moment before realizing that she was kissing him back. But what was even more alarming were the emotions being stirred inside of her. She might not be able to remember his address, his family, or even his past; but there was one thing she did remember, and that was the feel of his lips against hers. She had kissed this man before, and liked it—a lot.

Releasing her slightly, Remus kissed her forehead tenderly before burying his face in her hair. “Any other questions?” he whispered in her ear.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back gently. “None that can’t wait for a few more minutes.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have that much time.” He slide one arm down around her waist and lead her back to her chair at the table. “I need to ask you some questions about Ms. Rouselore. If you don’t want to answer them, I’ll understand and try to find the information that I need elsewhere. However, if you would help, that would make my job much easier.”

Any doubts she had had about him being untruthful had vanished with his kiss. “Alright. But only if you promise to tell me all you know about what happened before my accident as soon as you possibly can.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Susy, I’ve been watching Ms. Rouselore for nearly three months. From what I can gather she was nearly a hermit living in her office at the newspaper back in Salt Lake. And then out of the blue, she decides to take a trip to England and pick up her social status and standing where she left it thirteen years ago. Something had to have changed to make her do so, but I can’t possibly think of what it could be. It just doesn’t make any sense. Has she happened to have mentioned any other reason for her coming, besides you writing her biography?”

“No.”

“What about when you first arrived in London? There have been a few times when I haven’t been able to follow her due to illness. Did you go anywhere out of the ordinary? Or meet with any unusual people?”

“I don’t believe so. I’m sorry, all the days we spent in London are becoming a big blur.” Susy sighed, realizing that her headache had returned, at the same time that Remus sighed in frustration. “Wait a minute. We did meet with someone. Lori’s brother, Steven Applegate, was here for a brief time a day or two after we had arrived.”

“Applegate’s got the brains and financial backing to do something on a grand scale. But there’s no motive for him to be involved in the Crouches anymore. Anyone else?”

She shivered as the memory of another man’s final words to her came to her mind. “Yes, I did meet someone else, but I only saw him for a moment.”

“Could you describe him?

“Well, creepy is the first world that comes to mind, along with scary, evil, and intimidating. He was this old man who had a wooden leg. He seemed to be able to see right through me.”

“Do you remember his name?’

“Lori said his name was Moody. Alastor Moody. I think it might have been a pseudonym, but I could go check my notes if you’d like.”

“Moody?” He looked confused. “But that doesn’t make sense. He’s supposed to be at Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts? That’s were Lori went to school.”

“Yes, I know. We were there at the same time. It’s also the school where I taught last year.” Remus may have now put together the edges of the puzzle he was trying to solve, but obviously the mystery of what the whole picture was still evaded him. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and started massaging his temples.

“Remus, I…if it’s not my place, just let me know…but I’d like to…can you tell me what you suspect Lori of?”

“Like you said, I’m grasping at straws. Everything depends on how deep she was involved and how much she knew before Crouch died. If he was able to conceal everything from her, which I doubt, then she’s just like you—completely harmless. But if not…”

“Are you saying that I’m in danger?”

“I don’t know. If I knew what or who we were up against exactly, I could give you a better idea. Give me a few days, and it will probably all turn out to be nothing. But still, I have this feeling that something’s going to happen. And the possibilities of what that something is are endless: howlers, unpleasant confrontations, assault, kidnapping. I wouldn’t even rule out murder.”

She nearly choked on her glass of water. “Murder! My murder? No, no, no, I haven’t done anything. I mean, it’s completely crazy. Who’d want to kill me? There must be some mistake,” she sputtered while trying to forget the warning that she had already received that evening from Charlie. “What have I gotten myself in to? What am I going to do? I’m frightened, Remus.”

He knelt in front of her and clasped her hands in his. “I know. But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you this time.” He pulled gently and she also dropped to her knees to be closer to him. Once again he enfolded her in his arm and she felt safe. A moment later, he turned her face so that he could look at her. His fingers moved a strand of her auburn hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, and then moved softly to trace her face. He lifted her chin and their lips met. Though it was not as passionate or alarming as their last kiss, she rejoiced that the feeling of familiarity had not vanished.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked almost breathlessly.

He answered halfheartedly. “I think you should leave the country for a while.”

“We’re going back to London tomorrow.”

“No, I mean leave England and Europe altogether. At least until whatever’s coming happens. I’ll take you to the airport if you like.”

“Thank you. Should I go pack?”

“No, I’ll come by for you tomorrow night.”

“But we’re leaving in the morning,” she protested as he helped her to her feet.

“Hush. I’ll take care of it. Remember you’re ill and you need rest. I have a feeling that you’ll need all your strength before we’re through.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to her bedroom and carefully set her down on the bed.

“Thank you, Remus, for everything.”

“Sleep. I’ll be close by if you need me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kissed her on the forehead, muttered something incoherent, and left the room.