I woke completely disoriented in a cottage that wasn't familiar to me. I could see mountains from a window across the room from where I lay. I turned my head and saw the man called Dumbledore seated nearby, watching. The afternoon's events flashed vividly and horrifically into my head and I sat up quickly.

"The people in the village! What happened to us?"

He seemed to think for a moment, as if weighing what he would say and how, and I flashed back to the accident and the nurse who told me about Mike and Jenny, and knew as I'd known then. The villagers were dead.

He didn't really have to say the words. So he didn't.

"Why? Who would do that?"

Rather than answer any of my questions, Dumbledore asked one of his own. "May I know your name?"

His refusal to tell me anything infuriated me.

"No. Not until you tell me what happened. And why."

"We're still not sure. I need to ask you more questions to be sure. Will you help us?"

I wanted to refuse because he wouldn't tell me anything, but thought of the villagers who had always been polite and friendly to me, a stranger.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, first of all, your name."

"Ann. Ann Jacobs."

"Do you remember me telling you my name?"

I nodded. "Albert Dumbledore."

"Albus."

"Sorry. Albus." There was a silence and I was desperate to fill it, though I couldn't tell you why. "They called you Professor."

"I teach."

"And fight crime?" I'd thought he was a detective or something.

He smiled then. "A little of both, but I prefer teaching. You said a man pointed a stick and yelled something. Can you remember what he said?"

"It sounded like Abra Cadabra, but that wasn't it."

The man who'd called himself Arthur entered the room with tea as I answered and it was obvious my answer disturbed him. It didn't surprise him though. He and Dumbledore exchanged looks. "the Killing Curse."

"The what?"

Dumbledore ignored me and asked, "And then what happened?"

"There was a blinding flash of light. I thought I was having a…. well, I stumbled on the cobblestones and fell and hit my head pretty hard. It knocked the wind out of me and I was still blinded by the flash, so I didn't see anything else until you helped me."

By now the third man had returned with cups. He poured for us all and handed me one, introducing himself at the same time. "I'm Remus Lupin."

"It's nice to meet you." Because it's always nice to meet people after a mass murder. He was kind enough to ignore the lameness of my social niceties so I continued. "I'm Ann Jacobs. So, who ARE you people? Because clearly you're NOT the police. And if you're not, shouldn't we be calling them and reporting what happened?"

Arthur and Remus exchanged looks and then both looked to Dumbledore for a response.

"I am a wizard," he said it like one would announce, "I have red hair." "Arthur and Remus are also wizards. The attack in the market was by a wizard. He used a curse that, except for one notable exception, has never been successfully countered.

"I would not think it possible, even by a witch or wizard and yet you are clearly a Muggle and have emerged from such an attack unscathed. I need to discover why and how."

It sounded like English. The words were recognizably English. And yet, none of them made any sense at all.

Didn't seem to faze Dumbledore who continued on.

"I have attempted 5 separate Memory Charms on you and you've successfully countered each of them. I would know if you were a witch; so you must be a Muggle. But I must know how you survived the attack and how you have countered my memory spells."

I tried to think of a response. Any response. I had nothing. I stared at Dumbledore and he gazed back.

"Won't you help us? Please?"

"I wouldn't even know where to begin. I have no idea what you're talking about. Witches and wizards and spells and who knows what else. That stuff's not real!"

"I assure you, it's very real."

"right. Because you can walk down any street and find witches and wizards, just doing their magical thing, right? Well, where the hell were you 2 years ago, huh?"

The force of my sudden anger even surprised me.

"Where should we have been 2 years ago?"

I shook my head, embarrassed. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I shouldn't have said that. All I'm saying is you sit there and expect me to believe in magic and then help you confirm there's magic. And of all the things I don't believe in anymore, magic is right at the top of the list."

My voice broke then. I blinked furiously to keep the tears that suddenly threatened at bay. And then cleared my throat and took a deep breath.

"Magic doesn't exist" I finished. "It just doesn't."

"I'm very sorry, but magic exists. Dark magic is responsible for the attack in the village. And I need to know why it didn't affect you."

Right up to that moment, I'd assumed he was sane. Clearly, I was wrong. Again. But I tried to appeal to his sense of logic.

"Look, even if there were such a thing as magic, it should be obvious that I didn't know about it til just now. So how on earth could I tell you why I wasn't harmed in the attack?"

He ignored my question entirely.

"Tell me about what happened 2 years ago."

"No."

"Why not?

"Because I don't want to talk about it. Because it's got nothing to do with today. And it's totally none of your business!" My hands shook so badly the teacup clattered in the saucer and I quickly put them down and clamped my hands between my knees.

"It upsets you."

"Well, obviously. But it's private and I don't want to talk about it." My voice shook and cracked again, and I could feel tears welling up despite my best efforts against it. I gave up all pretense at being calm and yelled, "It's got nothing to do with today!"

"Not directly, no. I don't believe it does. But surviving the Killing Curse makes you unique and I need to learn what it is about you that makes you different from the other Muggles at the market. Maybe what happened then has nothing to do with today. But maybe it does. Will you please tell me?"

He simply would NOT give up!

"How?" I demanded. "What could a car accident that killed my husband and my daughter and put me in the hospital for a year while I learned to walk and read again POSSIBLY have anything to do with today??? Tell me that!"

Just in case the screaming fit wasn't quite humiliating enough, I burst into tears. And not the cute, sweet tears like you see in movies or read about in books, where the heroine's eyes gleam attractively, and she hiccups a few dainty sobs and all the men's hearts melt. I'm talking great,big gulping sobs, runny nose, probably even a little drool while I hid my face in my hands. In short, I was a mess.

What I lacked in poise and grace, they made up for. None of the men tried comforting me with lame platitudes or wimpy pats on the back. They just let me be while I cried and presently someone pressed a handkerchief into my hand. To the extent that anyone can recover gracefully from such a complete breakdown, I tried, wiping my nose with the handkerchief and my eyes with my sleeve.

"I'm sorry," I hiccupped, a post-childhood-tantrum cadence to my voice. "I didn't used to be like this."

I picked up my teacup, which had been refilled as I'd cried and took a tiny sip. Took a deep breath and began.

"There was a car accident. A teenager with a new license cut off a semi-truck in traffic. The truck swerved to avoid him and hit our car head on. My husband and daughter were killed. I hit my head on the door frame when it crumpled. Broke a couple ribs, both legs, collapsed lung. But the worst was the head injury.

"I was unconscious for 2 or 3 hours. Probably a blessing, they said. The EMTs had to cut me out of the car and I wasn't conscious for any of that. Nor when they … when they took my husband and daughter out of the car. I had moderate brain damage and had to learn to read again. My legs had multiple fractures and after all the time in the hospital and rehab, I had to learn to walk again.

"Recovering from the head injury has been the hardest. I couldn't smell anything for weeks afterwards. I get terrible headaches and sometimes have seizures. I have violent mood swings. I have nightmares. And occasionally flashbacks I'm still seeing a therapist. I moved to England because I couldn't bear to remain at home, where everywhere I went and everything I saw reminded me of Mike and Jenny."

I looked up at Dumbledore who was actually smiling! I was shocked by his reaction, but it was Arthur who protested.

"Professor!"

"Pardon me, Arthur; of course, you're right. I am not smiling because she was hurt. But I believe I might understand the problem, although it's quite unique. I don't recall any wizard or witch every encountering this, but we've kept our worlds apart for so many centuries the opportunities wouldn't have come up."

He turned to the third man, and said, "Remus, do you think you could find Madam Pomfrey? I think we could use her services."

Remus nodded, made a brief head nod to me and Arthur and took his leave. Dumbledore handed me a pillow from his chair, walked across the room, pointed a stick at me and said, "Expel a mouse!"

The pillow flew out of my hands. "Oh!"

I looked back and forth at Dumbledore and Arthur, who was beginning to grin like the professor.

"What the hell was that?"

He ignored me, retrieved the pillow and handed it back to me.

"Would you indulge me just a bit longer? I would like you to throw that at me."

Well, why not? After the day it had been already, it almost seemed a sensible request. I obliged him and aimed for his head.

"Re pillow!"

Despite the fact that I still have decent aim and that the pillow had seemed to be right on target, with Dumbledore's words, it veered away at the last minute, missing him completely.

Both men were smiling broadly by then.

"Please, won't you tell me what's going on? I feel like I'm going crazy and I'm not using hyperbole!"

Dumbledore sat across from me. "I'm sorry; that was a test of my theory. As I said earlier, I'm a wizard. So is Arthur and Remus. I didn't understand why my memory charms were useless on you. I think your head injury is the cause.

"I can do magic to things you hold and to things around you, but not to you. Well, more precisely, I believe I could do some magic to you, such as make you levitate."

I must have reacted to that, because he hastened to add, "I will not, without your permission and then only to confirm my theory. But I believe any charm that requires control over and modifcation of your brain will prove useless on you. And I believe that is why the attack in the market didn't affect you as it did the other Muggles."

"Muggles? You said the before. What are muggles?"

"Non-magical people."

I could feel myself making a face that time and Dumbledore began pointing his stick -- wand -- at objects around the room and making them fly all over the place. He poured me another cup of tea, only this time the teapot did the serving. He even made Arthur (with his permission) fly all over the room and spin circles til Arthur was almost green. It wasn't until an owl flew into the cottage, however, delivering a note from Remus that he and Mrs. Pompfrey were on their way after a slight delay that he would explain later, that I began to accept what must be true: there really is such a thing as Magic.