Chapter Two: Self Doubt

The library was easy to find, Elodie discovered. It was also within walking distance, which was a very great stroke of luck. The benefits of being able to Apparate, Floo, or fly somewhere on a broom meant that magical commerce was not bound to the same conventions as Muggle commerce. Given the importance of getting each one right in their own ways, she felt incredibly fortunate that there was a library nearby.

She arrived just as it opened for the day, and as soon as she stepped inside, Elodie realized she didn't know if she was even qualified or licensed to borrow anything. The source material was no help to her in this, as Hogwarts students were authorized to use that library by virtue of being students. Then there was the issue of not being a citizen-but here, she was even more in need of guidance, for surely the Ministry of Magic and whatever governing body existed in the United States had their own practices and regulations. Beyond that lay the possible power and influence of Albus Dumbledore, and how he may have used it to help Elodie herself. For all that his character came across as lackadaisical, she'd always felt that it was a facade to hide the level of power he truly held behind the guise of a gentle, talented wizard. This led her to conclude that there was a larger than fifty percent chance he'd pulled enough strings for her to have proper documentation.

Confidence was what she had to portray, Elodie told herself. She stopped near the door to look at what could best be termed as a display exhibit, and an unusual one at that. It was a beehive, contained in glass, with the main body of the hive nestled against the corner by the library door, so that patrons could see inside. The bees' entrance was aimed in the direction of a flowerbed, with a glass tunnel giving them a path to and from the outside world. There wasn't anything innately magical about it, but it felt like something Muggles would struggle to imagine, much less enact.

The change purse she'd brought from the boarding house was helpful to fidget with, but she hadn't looked inside yet. Elodie pulled apart the magnetic clasp and peered in. There were coins, more than she would have expected, given how much it weighed. There was also a rectangular card, and when she pulled it out, she saw that it listed her name (Elodie Merriman, that was a relief), age (36-which was accurate, but still a shock. Perhaps it could magically discern age?), blood status (half-blood, something Elodie took as a confirmation of her hope that her mother was indeed magical in this universe), and a few titles that read as gibberish to her, along with others that looked familiar.

All in a rush, it became clear to her. These were things that described her, things she herself had chosen, she was sure of it! 'Potions Master' made sense (and was gratifying), but 'Pukwudgie,' was a complete mystery. Elodie decided she would figure out what the rest were in time, but for now, she needed to gather up some books to make up for seven lost years of magical education.

Reminding herself of the need for confidence, Elodie took stock of the library, seeing that the sections were were easy to follow, with Spells and Enchantments, Potions and Recipes, and Magical Creatures being three of the many categories. She made a beeline for the elementary spellbooks at the very front, no doubt meant for students who had mislaid theirs or wanted to read ahead a few years. She picked up the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, as well as Grade 2. Then she made her way to the brewing books. On the way, she saw a shelf designed to catch readers' eyes. Themed books of all kinds, including Vampires and Spells to Repel, Sea Creatures' Best Features (Eating, Brewing, and Canoodling), and France's Best Fiends and Friends: a Guidebook to Tell the Difference. The one her eyes lit on, however, looked like it was exactly what she wanted. Wolf's Bane: Dismantling the Shame of Lycanthropy. Elodie grabbed it and flipped through, seeing that there was a section at the back with recipes and potions; all of them seemed beneficial.

"That book's got dangerous ideas in there," a silver-haired wizard said, pausing beside her. He lifted a hand from the cart of library books in front of him to point at the werewolf book. "You want it? You can keep it. The publisher sent it without asking, and no one's even sneezed it its direction for over a year." He shook his head at her, making it clear that, despite the gift, he disapproved of her interest. "No charge."

"Thank you," Elodie said, startled. Then, on a whim, she added, "I wouldn't want to take it if that would damage my reputation with the librarian, though. I do find the subject fascinating, but it's not the only subject I'm interested in."

The wide, pleased grin on the man's face told Elodie she'd said exactly the right thing.

"No concern there, child," he reassured her, reaching out to pat her hand. "I'd just as soon forget the thing ever existed in the first place." As he walked away, pushing the cart of returned books toward the next set of shelves, Elodie wondered if he planned to do just that. It was possible in this world, after all.

She wanted to get back to the boarding house as soon as she could, to pore over her new book (not the first one in her meager belongings, however. Mellie's Wise Witch book held that distinction). The concept of hurrying reminded her of the other subject she wanted to study, and Elodie rushed to get a book on magical transportation. She'd initially planned to get one solely on Apparition, but realized that she'd seen a fireplace in the foyer of the boarding house as she'd left. Both methods were deeply frightening to her, despite the handful of spells she'd successfully attempted, but she knew that knowing more about something could ease fear.

The walk home was pleasant, as the lane was shaded by many trees whose branches intertwined above the pebbled path. Elodie stuck three books under her arm and held the fourth one open in front of her, reading. Then, with a giggle she was sure even Mellie hadn't uttered in nearly a decade, Elodie snatched her wand from its side pocket and cast Wingardium Leviosa. With her wand hand held just so, she was able to walk along, holding the spellbook and turning pages, the other three library books floating along beside her.

"Thank you, Hermione Granger, for your primer on pronunciation," Elodie said aloud. "I think even if I woke up at home tomorrow, I'd have had the most fun I could ever have imagined in a single day," she added, nodding to a tiny brown bird perched a few feet away.

The rest of the day's plans went just as swimmingly. Winnifred was at lunch, and Elodie was able to confirm that there would be room for a Mr. R. J. Lupin to arrive within the month and stay for several. She gave a glowing recommendation of the man without even thinking, blushing deeply and confessing to the older woman that most of what she knew of Lupin was second-hand. She encouraged Winnifred to contact Albus Dumbledore if she needed a reference, but was met with a shake of the head and a kindly smile.

"I know what it's like to feel you know someone from someone else's description," she said to Elodie. "I like living in the middle of nowhere, and nearly everyone who comes to stay has a very good reason to like it the same themselves. I'm sure he'll be right at home, here."

Next, Elodie camped out on her unmade bed with the books she'd gotten from the library arrayed in front of her. She decided she would have to ration the lycanthropy book, as it was the one she was most delighted to look at, not that learning actual real working spells wasn't also high on her list. It was very important to her to be able to stand in for an adult witch with typical knowledge, so she opened up the Standard Book of Spells and started reading.

She'd underestimated herself, in more ways than one. The afternoon flew by, with Elodie's wand movements and casting voice becoming more and more confident as time progressed. The thing that the books hadn't conveyed properly here was how completely, ridiculously fun it was! Elodie felt like she was addicted to the feeling of casting spells, even more so to the amazement of making things work with actual magic. Even after a whole three hours or more of spellcasting, she still couldn't get over the fact that she could speak an incantation, wave a gorgeous carved piece of wood around, and feel the power to make things happen move from her chest, through her arm, and out through the tip of her wand.

By the time she heard the maid's voice at her door, knocking and asking if she was all right and did she want to come down for dinner, Elodie had cast her way through most of Grade 1 of her textbook. She got up gingerly from the center of the floor where she'd been sitting cross-legged, and gave herself a few seconds to appreciate exactly how messy she'd let everything get (conjuring was one of the few things she'd skipped ahead to learn, so that she'd have materials for earlier lessons). Elodie felt an urge to cast Scourgify on the room, given that the mess was mostly made from conjured objects, but she decided that the library books weren't something she was willing to have to pay to replace, should the spell get carried away thanks to her novice status. She reached out and opened the door, stepped through it quickly, and smiled awkwardly at the maid.

"Good evening! I didn't realize what time it was. I've been, uh…" she stopped, internally rolling her eyes at her instinct to explain herself. "Wondering! I've been wondering if you could help me. I think I must have had some of that cursed juice last night," Elodie said, making the split second decision to capitalize on the complete and utter mess she was making of not looking guilty or suspicious. "Because I am pretty sure I set up a brewing area, and I can't for the life of me remember where it is!"

"Oh, I'd wondered why I hadn't seen you down there today," the woman said, nodding sagely. "It's down the stairs from the kitchen, second door to the left. Right next to my own room."

Elodie thanked her and followed her down to the large dining room. There were three round tables seating six, and a couple smaller, square tables near two large bay windows, with two or three chairs at each. The tall, wide bay windows that let the evening sun in were framed by intricate drapes of cloth that hung vertically in the foot or so wide space between each pane of glass. Each was different, and Elodie saw that at least two were decorated in Hogwarts House colors, that of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

There was a beverage station against the near wall, and across the room from that was an arched doorway that clearly led to a kitchen. Beside that doorway was a counter through which kitchen staff could place food trays and serving platters for each table. The few place settings that still remained were set with good quality silverware and china, and Elodie could see that a few residents were already finished. They were carrying their plates and accompanying dishes into the kitchen and out of sight. The overall effect was one of homey efficiency.

Elodie wandered over to the beverage station, filled a cup with an unknown substance, and walked over to an unused place at the closest table. An older lady whose clothing screamed 'maiden aunt' smiled at her when she lifted up her plate, meaning to head to a nonexistent buffet table.

"Out of it today, Elodie," the woman cautioned. "Here, I'll load you up."

In a few seconds and a few whiplike waves of the woman's wand, Elodie's plate was populated with scoops and slices that wove their way around each other to rest neatly separated from each other on her plate.

"That was professional," Elodie said, despite herself. The woman winked, waved her hand as if to say, 'you better believe it,' and turned back to her earlier conversation.

After a long minute during which Adult, Responsible Elodie warred inside her mind with Picky Kid Elodie, she dug in. Everything was delicious. She hadn't realized just how hungry she'd been! As soon as she'd finished her plate, though, Elodie realized something else. She was exhausted.

She'd never done any extra reading about the whole universe of the Harry Potter books, so she didn't know if there was any lore behind the use of magical energy, and whether there was a finite amount of it-whether she was typical tired, or magically tired, but either way, Elodie decided after she put her dishes into the boarding house kitchen, she was going to bed.

If she woke up back home after only spending a day in Harry Potter Universe, so be it.

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Elodie woke to the sunshine heating her face. Before she even opened her eyes, she smiled the happiest smile she'd ever smiled in her entire life. Then, secure in the knowledge that this precious gift wasn't being taken away from her too soon, she drifted back to sleep.

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The first thing Elodie did when she finally did roll out of bed (after, of course, getting dressed in another beautiful outfit of Mellie's) was to walk into the brewing room, Wolf's Bane: Dismantling the Shame of Lycanthropy in her hand. The reality of where she was and who she would most likely meet became almost overpowering, once she saw the actual cauldron of Wolfsbane. The potion was resting on a stone table (no chance of being knocked over, or tipping due to a wobbly wooden table, she guessed), with a white square of linen underneath the cauldron (perhaps to capture any drips should it bubble over unobserved). Nearby there was a metal tray and a bowl of water that seemed to be charmed to be warm, as there was steam escaping from it periodically. The tray held a wooden spoon, a metal spoon, and a third spoon that Elodie could only describe as 'enchanted,' as it glowed faintly purple in a way that obscured the material it was made from. Beside the three spoons lay a stack of metal measuring cups and a white marble pestle. The latter was clearly to be used with the white marble mortar next to the metal tray.

There were other utensils whose uses Elodie could only guess at. Something that could only be accurately described as a magical cooler or mini-fridge was sitting on the floor beside the stone table. Inside the visible, blue hued force field that skirted the very top was a myriad of ingredients, some contained in glass jars, others simply laid neatly on shelves. Some items looked like what Elodie would consider ordinary potion ingredients, such as leafed herbs, a delicate flower or two, some feathers, and a couple of crystallized rocks in brilliant colors. Others looked straight out of an 80s Halloween horror film. There were three actual claws, held together by a rubber band, which was so incongruous that Elodie laughed out loud. There was a whole shelf that seemed dedicated to vials of blood in various colors, and the capper to the freak-show was a jar that held slightly off-white, veiny spheres in a liquid that obscured them from view. Elodie would have bet half the Galleons in Mellie's change purse that they were eyeballs.

The orderly attention to detail continued around the room, with a large sheet of parchment affixed to the wall under the window. On it, Mellie had put stats and measurements about the potion she was brewing. Elodie realized this whole display of competence was the result of Mellie's training; a potion of this complexity and power was probably dangerous at at least one point during its brewing, and if something happened (and indeed, something had happened) to Mellie, the potion wasn't completely left to its own devices. Anyone tasked with cleaning it up would know exactly when it had been started (two days ago), what ingredients were already added (this list was extensive), and how long it was expected to take to complete (thirty-four more days).

Elodie stared at the precise lines of the little calendar Mellie had conjured in the corner of her diagram. It was spelled to check off the days as they passed, or at least, Elodie hoped it would, but if the potion progressed normally, it wouldn't be completed by the next full moon. She imagined that this hadn't been such a big problem for someone like Severus Snape, who probably had some sort of on-going batch enchantment on the Wolfsbane he'd brewed during Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. He'd most likely been instructed to start his batch before the school year began, just as Albus had instructed Mellie to do.

Elodie set herself a new task. It was twofold: first, she needed to find out where they were in the moon cycle. Second, she needed to discover the official end date to Hogwarts. The day Remus Lupin walked out of his classroom in disgrace was the day after he'd missed his dose of Wolfbane-which was the date of the full moon. For a long moment, Elodie managed to convince herself that Remus could simply bring the remainder of the Wolfsbane with him from Hogwarts to tide him over until hers was finished.

Then, she remembered who had brewed it.

"Abso-fricking-lutely no chance for that, then," Elodie said, making a face. "So, I need to know when Hogwarts ends, and then I need to know when the next full moon is. Without Google."

"Excuse me, Miss?" the maid spoke from outside the door. A second later, there was the sound of a small knock.

"I'll be right there," Elodie called out. She looked at the brewing station and frowned. Would anyone discover it and decide Elodie or someone she cared about was a dangerous monster, and destroy it? Right on the heels of that thought came another more comforting one: it was very likely that Mellie had thought of this and came up with some sort of precaution against it. Indeed, when Elodie opened the door, she saw that the large sheet of paper rippled slightly and wiped completely clear of all information, a development that, despite her trust in her counterpart, made Elodie's blood run cold. No way did she know enough about the potion to remember how to make it!

"An owl's just come for you, a great big one! Here's the package." The other woman looked with obvious curiosity at the package, but, knowing it was certain to be the book the headmaster promised, Elodie opened the brown wrapping parchment enough to show her the cover.

"Not very interesting, I'm afraid," Elodie said. This was completely relative, of course, as Hermione Granger would probably immediately know about this particular book and its significance. The owl itself was nowhere to be found, and Elodie felt bereft, sure that Dumbledore had decided she wasn't useful enough to assist with Order business. Inside the front cover was a small scrap of paper, however, with a few lines dashed out.

Dear Elodie,

A lot has happened in the time since my last message. I feel I will need to visit you after the term is officially over and my duties are lighter, so the secrecy I insisted on via phoenix feather in the previous letter is no longer necessary. Please do start the potion as soon as possible, it will definitely be needed.

No need to send back a message with this owl. She's paid to deliver packages, and has many more to deliver thanks to the end of the school year. If you have good news for me about space at Hollyfield, please send Winnifred's as soon as possible.

Albus

There was no date, but the goosebumps on Elodie's arms and the contents of the letter both told her that last night must have been a full moon. A fully transformed Remus Lupin had been roaming the Forbidden Forest while Elodie slept, an unknown number of miles between them. Thinking about that was sobering, because no matter how well prepared Mellie was, the Wolfsbane potion was serious business, and Elodie was in no way qualified to oversee it.

Elodie looked around, realizing that she was still standing in the hallway outside the potions lab. She tucked Dumbledore's letter back into the large tome, patted the door to the lab, and headed for her room. As she walked up the stairs, Elodie examined the book, noting that the look and feel of the tome was that of a modern repackaging of ancient lore. She liked that it seemed to have sidestepped the pretentious title (I'm looking at you, 'Moste Potente Potions,' Elodie laughed to herself). 'Potions to Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall the Wyrd.' The cover was ornately embossed, full of gold leaf and rich burgundy embellishments. The large E on the cover was raised, with the words 'Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall' stemming from it in an elegant, organic way. The effect was a slick marriage between modern style and ancient glory.

When she finally reached her room and had a chance to leaf through the thick parchment pages, Elodie felt like she was trespassing on something extraordinary. Just inside the front cover was a second title page, and Elodie couldn't help but laugh at her earlier joke about Moste Potente Potions, because here was what couldn't be anything other than the book's original title, published sometime in the 1600's, although the print was so tiny and serifed that it was hard to make it out. 'Pociouns Forthraell Wyrd' blew Potente out of the water, no question.

The first page with significant information on it was a list of contributors, with names that even she as a relatively new fan of the Harry Potter book series would recognize. Damocles Belby was listed near the top, as the inventor of the Wolfsbane potion, and there were other names that sounded familiar, like Newt Scamander. Elodie figured these were contributors of various ingredients or observations, not just the creators of the potion recipes themselves. Another name stood out to her, that of Horace Slughorn. She followed the page number listed after his name and found a short bio. He'd been a professor at Hogwarts for an astounding sixty years, something she hadn't realized. It was still a few years before he would reappear at Hogwarts at Dumbledore's urging, but Elodie wondered if he was truly in hiding as she'd pictured after reading about him. According to the valuable, coveted book she held in her hands, that wasn't the case.

She caught her breath. Would it be ridiculous to send the man an owl? She had some plausible deniability in being American and finding his name listed in such a venerable publication. The reason he retired surely wasn't public knowledge, after all, and Elodie couldn't be faulted for choosing to contact Slughorn instead of the current Potions Master at Hogwarts, given that school was still in session.

Then again, what would she say?

Elodie grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment and dashed out a quick draft of a letter. As she wrote, she tried to evoke a spirit of deference while peppering in the kinds of things she remembered that the wizard valued, hoping she'd catch his attention enough to want to respond, despite his self-imposed exile.

Dear Mr. Slughorn,

My name is Elodie Merriman. I found your name in 'Potions to Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall the Wyrd', which my friend Albus Dumbledore gave me just today-I can scarcely believe I'm holding it in my hands! What a great honor! But, I digress.

I recently finished my qualifying exams as a Potions Master after studying under Marcos Francis in America. The reason I'm writing you is that, despite having learned a great deal from him, the ending of my apprenticeship was acrimonious in the extreme, and he took pains to try to destroy my life and my vocation. Albus was most helpful in rescuing me, and has done so much for me that I don't wish to burden him with questions that would be better served in being asked of someone with your background and vast knowledge.

Less than a week ago I began brewing Wolfsbane. A day or so ago, I woke with altered memories and physical changes that are clearly the result of a magical attack. There are gaps in my memory, and one of these involves Wolfsbane. I was wondering, could I ask you a few specific questions about the brewing process to ensure that I am not leaving out something vital? I feel confident enough, but the attack has left me doubting my ability to self-assess.

Elodie stopped, setting the quill aside. She liked what she'd written, but knew there were some serious hours of research ahead of her in regards to Wolfsbane before she could ever send it. The importance of the potion along with its complexity left her with no doubt that she'd need assistance, but the specific areas she'd need help with would only come after studying it. She ran her fingertips along the raised bumps and swirls on the cover of her new book.

"Soon," she promised. Instead of lifting it and looking through its richly illustrated pages for Wolfsbane, though, Elodie reached instead for the werewolf book. She'd work up to enthralling the wyrd, she told herself, instead of jumping into potionsmaking at heirloom quality.

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Just as it had the day before, mealtime came faster than she'd expected, but Elodie was grateful when she heard the bell chime to call residents down to the dining room. She felt like the hours she'd spent reading about werewolves in general and Wolfsbane in particular were some of the most intense she'd ever spent with an educational book. She felt instinctively that the Wolf's Bane book was on the far spectrum of fairness when it came to lycanthropy, and for that she was grateful. Her mind was awash with facts and anecdotes as she ate (No wonder Lupin is covered in scars-werewolf bites never truly heal as much as scab over, how awful! she thought with sympathy), and Elodie was glad she'd brought a length of parchment and her pencil with her to jot down things she didn't want to forget. So far, she'd written specifics about the Wolfsbane itself (1. Initial construction of the potion involves 24 non-stop hours of work and precise ingredient preparation and combination (that must have been particularly tough on Snape!); 2. Potion to be left alone with no stirring for the entire first week (THANK GOD); 3. Starting on the 8th day, there are specific stirring instructions that I. Can. Not. Fuck. Up.), and a few notes on werewolves (-There seems to be a general consensus that there is a heightened senses aspect for them during the four or so days leading up to and following a full moon, which probably means he knew exactly how broken hearted Harry was to say goodbye, how bittersweet! -That probably means he'll still be in that mode when he arrives, and you should stay the heck away, by all means!).

Looking up from her notes, Elodie felt a strange sense of belonging as she saw the other residents in their animated or subdued conversations with each other, depending on their personalities. She saw Winnifred sitting at a nearby table, her warm friendly smile and patient demeanor a magnet of conversation for her table of residents. As she looked over in her direction, however, Elodie caught one of the maids handing Winnifred a message, and shortly thereafter, the older woman was politely making her way out of the room, handing her half-eaten plate off at the kitchen window.

Elodie knew she was overly attuned to her own anxiety about actually meeting Remus Lupin, but that didn't mean that she was wrong in her assumption that he'd arrived. She finished up her food as fast as she could, keeping an eye on the door in case Lupin was invited to grab lunch first thing. After clearing away her plate and a few tablemates' dishes as well, Elodie realized that she couldn't simply escape up to her own room, however. The main staircase at Hollyfield House was a grand one, and with good reason, as it branched out into the many hallways that held the residents' rooms. The second staircase was mostly used by the staff (and Elodie wasn't even certain she could find it), which essentially made the staircase into an elegant choke point, one that she couldn't allow herself to use so close to what she was certain was Lupin's arrival.

Even if she poofed back into her own existence the instant she laid eyes on the man, it was still too important to her not to meet him while he might be able to sense the wrongness of her. Logic wasn't welcome, she told herself stiffly. She really hated lying, and while she was usually able to use semantics and half-truths to dance around hurtful things she didn't want to tell people, it was pretty hard to conceal a mis-match between what she might say and how her body language and heartbeat betrayed her.

'You are completely ridiculous,' she told herself after she'd spent a nearly an hour walking halfway to the library and back, twice. Elodie had finally come up with a solution to her worry that she'd run into her favorite character, but the genius of it was completely marred by the fact that she felt stupid that she felt she needed it in the first place. Shaking her head, Elodie took a deep breath, preparing herself to run for the back door of the boarding house. She'd run in, with a totally reasonable explanation for her racing heartbeat, and pop right into her own room, looking like someone who had to do something right now, something that might just be an emergency.

Thus, racing heart and discovery anxiety was covered in one fell swoop.

With all of her focus on meeting Lupin and hoping for the opportunity to become friends with him, Elodie hadn't prepared herself at all for meeting Albus Dumbledore. She also hadn't even really thought about the change in her appearance from Mellie and how strange it was that no one had noticed it-until she dashed up the staircase to her room and found the Hogwarts Headmaster standing at her door, poised to knock.

"Oh! Allow me," Elodie said, her breath coming in gasps as she darted forward and used the key. Her heart pounded so frantically that she was certain that Lupin's werewolf senses would prompt him to look for the terrified person somewhere in the building. What could she say to explain herself now?

It was no wonder that people thought criminals were stupid, Elodie thought to herself. Even when a person was given the greatest gift they could ever imagine, it was possible to forget one or two important details and completely incriminate themselves!

"Elodie, how good to see you," Dumbledore said, when she finally turned away from the door to face him. She'd stood there for a long minute trying to calm herself, but he had waited patiently. It was a behavior as odd as it was kind.

"Forgive me for seeming… strange," Elodie said, wringing her hands in front of her.

"Something further has happened," Dumbledore said, his tone of voice splitting the difference between question and statement. "Your aging glamour-"

"Has become permanent," Elodie blurted out, her mind for once skipping past the obstructions of deliberation and inhibitions toward a conclusion that might not ruin everything. Her statement hung in the air, and Dumbledore lifted his wand and his eyebrows in an obvious question. "I'm not sure how you would 'check,' but you're welcome to," Elodie said, shutting her eyes and breathing deeply, her pulse finally reaching a rhythm that could be called steady just as her brain frantically picked up the slack. She wrote a checklist in her head, at lightning speed:

1. No one noticed a change, because someone placed an aging glamour on Mellie

2. It must have been Mellie herself, because otherwise Dumbledore would have finite incantatum'd it away?

3. The spectre of Jerk Francis is as good an explanation for the physical change as anything else, right?

4. So, what do we say, the glamour just… settled in, and now I feel different? Because, I mean, I AM aged, I have a whole chunk of memories in there from my own actual Muggle life, after all!

5. Can my Muggle life memories be extracted into a Pensieve? Would that prove or disprove my lie about the glamour?!

Suddenly, Elodie realized what to do. Without opening her eyes, she spoke.

"Albus?" She hoped she didn't sound too timid in her use of his name. The diary entries Elodie had read made it perfectly clear that Mellie was comfortable with addressing him so informally.

"Elodie, my dear, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice full of regret. She opened her eyes in surprise as he continued, "The magic here, it has a permanence that speaks of something beyond a simple finalism curse-"

"I'm not upset," Elodie said, her voice barely audible. "I know that sounds crazy, but-I… Did you know I have a fondness for Muggle television?" Elodie turned to find where Albus was standing behind her, looking a little taken aback. "I know, typical Elodie gear switching, right? Well, I do, and one of the programs I enjoyed had this episode where the leader on a spaceship far from Earth had an experience I find very familiar right now."

"A spaceship?" the headmaster of a magical school of Witchcraft and Wizardry said in amusement. "How fanciful."

"The ship encountered a device, and the device cast a spell on the leader, causing him to feel like he was living an entirely different lifetime," Elodie said, her hands tracing out the contours of her story. "It happened in barely an hour's time, but when the spell ended, he felt like he'd lived until his death in a different world. Their medical-mediwitches," she corrected herself, "did a scan and found that his brain contained the correct amount of memories for an actual lifetime lived.

"Albus, a few nights ago I fell asleep the Elodie you knew, and woke with years more memories. A whole different life, lived as a Muggle. I could even show you, I'm certain of it, in a Pensieve."

"As fascinating as that might be, I fear that's not the point you're trying to come to," Albus said, perceptively.

"I'm sure it was meant as a punishment, 'oh, she thinks she wants to glamour herself to hide away? Well, HERE, then,'" Elodie said, face scrunched up in a hateful expression to mimic the spectre of Jerk Francis from her counterpart's diary. "And yes, there are drawbacks, and I'll get to them, but-" Elodie wiped an unexpected tear from the corner of her eye. She'd become so invested in this magical version of herself that she'd gotten emotional in what she now saw as her defense of that persona. If she could persuade Albus Dumbledore that this amalgam of Mellie and herself was genuine, she just might be able to stay and get help adjusting to all her newfound magic.

"Sit with me?" Dumbledore said, graciously filling the silence Elodie had left when she'd stopped speaking to gather herself. She walked over to where he'd settled onto her bed, and as she sat, he reached out to take her hand. When Elodie looked over at his face, it was a picture of gentle encouragement, with a little sorrow.

"It's as if he's so awful it didn't occur to him how anything like this could have a positive outcome!" Elodie said, shaking her head. "It's Empathy 101, right? Healing takes time. And so by giving me what he probably saw as a bland, miserable life of Muggledom for what was probably fifteen years or something, what he really did was place distance between what he's done to me and how I feel now!"

"A whole different life, did you say?" Albus asked.

"With friends, a job, losing my mother in an accident-everything," Elodie confirmed.

"But, no magic?"

"When I woke up, I didn't realize I was a witch at first," Elodie told Albus Dumbledore with absolute truthfulness."

"So, tell me what you're saying," he asked her, clasping his other hand overtop their joined ones.

"I'm-" Elodie paused and squeezed his hand with her captured one, raising her other hand to brush away another errant tear. What she wanted to say felt like she could possibly be literally signing away that real Muggle life she'd lived and breathed in just last week. Could she really do that?

Dumbledore slid one hand away, spoke a spell in a whisper, and then held out the handkerchief he'd just conjured. It had an embroidered phoenix on it in rich, fiery thread. Elodie took it, wiped her eyes, and breathed out in a long, steady sigh.

"I'm saying I'm okay with it. Being older, I mean. Because it's the ultimate malicious compliance, isn't it? No angry wizards apparating in to bang on Francis's door-no Howlers sent to crush his eardrums. Just a manufactured peace, with the benefit of putting the pain of his horribleness what feels like so far in my past that it almost didn't even happen to me," Elodie said, all in a rush.

"I could still try to reverse it, child," Albus said, his expressive eyebrows rising in emphasis. "We could store that second life away to relive, if you felt you wanted to try."

"Do you know-that doesn't even seem tempting? Is that not the most insane part of all of this?" Elodie said after a minute of picturing how that might work.

"A simple de-aging potion? The failure rate has dropped quite-"

"With great respect, no, thank you," Elodie said. She reached over and drew Dumbledore into an impulsive hug before she realized what she was doing. He was a surprisingly good hugger, despite his elaborate robes and consummate dignity.

"Good, that's settled then, and I sense that subject is closed, now," he said, when they'd both pulled back. She nodded. "Then, let's address the drawbacks you mentioned?"

Elodie couldn't help but look dismayed. She was so torn by her desire to do something actually materially useful for Remus Lupin, while at the same time knowing it was irresponsible of her to attempt something so important with zero training. Then again, she was also an Elodie Merriman, so wasn't it possible to learn?

"Well, first things first: I barely remember anything magical. I'm capable at it, but it's like I'm… well, a Muggle in Witch's clothing? Or more accurately, a Witch in Muggle's, I suppose. I went to the library." Elodie got up and opened the rolltop desk to show Albus her school books.

"You're concerned about the Wolfsbane," Dumbledore said, standing. Elodie closed her eyes and sighed.

"Yes. I wrote out a letter to send to Horace Slughorn in hopes that he'd be able to coach me through it," she admitted.

"Breathe, Elodie," commanded Albus. She opened her eyes to look at him, as his tone of voice was far from the authoritative disappointment she'd been expecting. In response, he smiled, his eyes twinkling their amusement. "That's exactly the sort of thing he needs lately," Dumbledore said, presumably referring to Slughorn. "I'm not the most gifted at Potions myself, but I can certainly go examine it, if you promise you won't faint away from sheer anxiety?"

"Is it that obvious?" Elodie asked meekly.

"You've lost all color in your face, and I'm not entirely sure you're still breathing."

"It's just that I could tell by the way you have spoken about him that you value Lupin highly, and I suspect you were probably one of his professors if not his Headmaster when he attended Hogwarts, and I really want to repay you for everything you've done for Mellie-" Elodie stopped, covering her mouth with her hand.

Instead of demanding to know what she was clearly hiding, Dumbledore smiled at her and waited in that gentle way he had.

"I wasn't kidding about feeling like different people," Elodie finally said, shrugging away the incredible importance of the moment. "Magical Elodie. 'Mellie.'"

"This has been a time of incredible turmoil and change for you," Albus said. He walked toward where Elodie was standing at the rolltop desk, reaching out to pick up the picture of Elodie's mother. "Is this your mother, Elodie?" In the picture, Elodie's mother waved, then turned around and pointed with both hands at the view behind her as if to say, 'can you believe this?!' It was a gesture Elodie remembered fondly, from when she had been a child until well into adulthood.

"Yes," she answered, taking the frame as he offered it to her and smiling at her mother's moving image.

"And, can you perform magic?" Albus then asked, pointing to her wand in her side pocket.

In response, Elodie pulled her wand free and cast a spell to close her wardrobe door, which had been poking open slightly, obstructed by a fold of clothing.

"And, you're willing to learn the things that time has made distant?"

"Yes," Elodie said firmly, mentally shutting a door on the way her brain reminded her that, despite how well everything was working out, she was still telling something that very closely resembled a lie.

"Then, Magical Elodie, will you show me where you are brewing the Wolfsbane?"

"Yes," she said, marveling at how easily she had allowed herself to be persuaded.

"Self-doubt is unscrupulous," Dumbledore told her, holding open her door for them both. "The best way I have found to fight it is with joy."