Disclaimer: OK, you really should know by now that nothing but Bryn belongs to me.

Chapter 14 - Asking For Help: After that night, Bryn felt a change in her friendship with Hermione. Before, they'd been friendly to each other, but both had hung back a bit. It was as if sharing boy problems and a few laughs had broken down an unseen barrier. It was nice to have a close female friend again - two, counting Ginny. She and Bryn had bonded during Quidditch practice.

In light of this, Bryn finally became comfortable enough to ask both Ginny and Hermione if they could help her with the problem about her mom. This was why all three girls were to be found one Saturday in the library, poring over school records. Hermione had also suggested that Bryn bring a picture of her mother so they could compare if any pictures of students were to be found. Unfortunately, they hadn't found any photos. Still, the lists could be helpful.

Bryn was scanning a list of 7th years from the 77-78 school year when she felt something brush her ankles. It was Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. Bryn smiled and reached down to stroke the cat's fluffy orange fur. She liked cats. Her mother had been extremely fond of cats, and there had always been a cat in the Sayre home for as long as Bryn could remember. "Hey, Hermione," she said, "does your cat have radar? He always manages to find you." Hermione laughed and picked up her cat, stroking him.

Not long after, the girls were interrupted again, this time by Harry, who had come to tell them it was lunchtime. He picked up the picture of Bryn and her mom from Bryn's first day at Salem and asked, "This is your mum?"

"Yeah," Bryn replied, noting the odd look on Harry's face. "Why?" Harry shrugged.

"She looks familiar, I'm not sure why." Bryn frowned. Why would Harry think her mom looked familiar?

"Maybe that's just because, except for her eye and hair color, and the fact that Bryn's hair is straight, not wavy, Bryn favors her mum," Ginny pointed out.

"Maybe," said Harry, though he sounded unconvinced. It was true that Bryn had inherited a lot of her mother's features, just not the crinkly gold-brown hair or amber-brown eyes. Her skin was also fairer than Julia's had been. She took the picture back, tucking safely back into her small photo album before following the others downstairs.

"You know," Hermione suggested at lunch, "McGonagall is in charge of admissions. It's part of the Deputy Head's duties, according to Hogwarts, A History. Maybe she'd remember your mother, Bryn."

Bryn had to laugh. "You know, Hermione, I've read that book a few times myself, and I still don't understand how you remember practically the whole thing." Hermione blushed and Harry said it was probably because Hermione had read it at least a dozen times, and possibly more. Bryn wasn't really paying attention, though she laughed. Hermione's idea made her nervous - McGonagall wasn't the sort you approached lightly - but Bryn was getting desperate. Five total hours searching today, plus the other times she'd gone looking, had turned up nothing.

So, after lunch, Bryn found herself outside the Transfiguration teacher's office once again. She knocked once and a stern voice barked, "Come in!" Bryn took a deep breath and went in.

"Sayre. What do you want?" McGonagall demanded as soon as she saw the girl, looking up from the papers she was marking. Bryn swallowed; she was beginning to regret this.

"It's a dumb thing, really, Ma'am. I was just wondering... a friend told me that you're in charge of admissions, and I wanted to ask if you remembered a student named Julia Sayre from the 70s. She's my mom, and I've been trying to find her because I know she met my dad here at school and I'd like to find him and -" She shut up as McGonagall held up a hand.

"Stop babbling, girl. I won't bite your head off, for Merlin's sake. I'm afraid I don't remember a Julia Sayre from that time period. I could be wrong, however, or it's possible that your mother changed her name for some reason." Minerva watched the girl's face fall. She knew this girl, she was sure she did. And there was something about the uncertainty in her face that reminded her of a girl who had gone here during the time Sayre had specified, but... It was highly unlikely, wasn't it?

"Are there any school records with photographs, Professor?" Bryn asked. McGonagall shook her head.

"I'm afraid not. If I were you, Sayre, I'd try not to worry too much about it." Seeing the crestfallen expression on Sayre's face, she added, "You could always try showing one of the teachers who's been here since then, such as Professor Flitwick or myself, a picture of your mother, and see if you get anything from that."

Bryn felt a rush of excitement. "I have one... would you mind looking, Professor?" McGonagall didn't answer, but she held out a hand for the picture and Bryn smiled. She took the picture out of her album and handed to her teacher. McGonagall's eyes widened, and then she frowned.

"I do know this woman, but I'm afraid her name slips my mind at the moment. If I remember, I'll be sure to inform you. You should still try Professor Flitwick; he might know." Bryn nodded, thanked McGonagall, and left. She was unable to shake the feeling that McGonagall knew more than she was letting on, but she didn't dare ask.

"No go" was all she said to her friends later, and after that the subject was pretty much dropped. As it turned out, Flitwick hadn't been able to help, though for some reason, he'd given her a very sad, almost pitying look before telling her that, unfortunately, the age difference had thrown him, and although Julia looked familiar, he couldn't place her. Bryn had hit a dead end; there seemed to be no way to get any more information.

A/N: R&R, people!