"You have to know," Alexandra said, "I've never done this before. I think it will work, but I don't know. If it doesn't work, I think nothing will happen. But I don't know that for sure either. Magic can be… well, it's not like a cooking recipe. Actually, it is kind of like a cooking recipe, sometimes, but imagine you're doing it while the ingredients move around or disappear and might try to bite you."

Brian listened quietly. He was too quiet. Alexandra's words were rushing together. She had meant to speak confidently about her plan, but now, holding Brian's gaze, she found her certainty ebbing. She wanted to convince him, but it was important to her that he really wanted to do it, not just because she'd pushed him into it.

"I can't say for sure you'll be better off remembering. If you want to forget about this conversation, I can do that for you. Or you can just walk away, and we won't talk about this ever again. It has to be your choice, Brian. But if you want to have your memories back, I've spent months researching this, and I think I can do it. But you have to trust me."

"Sounds like you're asking for a big leap of faith," Brian said.

"Yeah," Alexandra said. "I guess I am."

He continued staring at her. His hands still held hers, but he didn't even remember that they'd once held hands as more than friends.

Then he asked the question she'd known was coming.

"If I remember, will I find out what happened to Bonnie?"

Alexandra closed her eyes. She felt his hands squeezing hers, not warmly, but with apprehension.

She opened her eyes and met his. "I can tell you about Bonnie," she said, very quietly. "Whether or not you choose to remember, I'll tell you what I know."

Brian's sister, Bonnie, had disappeared the previous summer. She was still, officially, a runaway. The Seaburys had lived with the agony of not knowing where she was, or if she was still alive, for long enough.

"She's gone, isn't she?" Brian's voice was almost a whisper. His expression was still unrevealing, but his grip on Alexandra's hands was almost painful.

Alexandra swallowed past a lump in her throat and nodded.

He looked away. Alexandra waited, neither saying anything nor pulling her hands away from his.

Slowly, Brian fixed his eyes on her again. He blinked, with tears clinging to his lashes.

"Okay," he said hoarsely. "Show me."

Alexandra slid her hands out of his grip and turned to face the pond. She drew her wand and melted the ice still covering it from her demonstration, which she had to admit in hindsight had probably been excessive. Then she went to the jars she'd arranged on the ground. She opened one and cast its contents into the pond. Where the powder touched the water, the pond sparkled, but other than that, there was no visible effect.

She mixed the contents of two other jars together, then tilted the concoction over the pond, holding her hand steady and pouring very slowly, so only a tiny thread of liquid flowed out of the jar and appeared to be almost a solid line reaching up from the water. When it touched the water, a circle of shimmering silver spread away from it, and as Alexandra continued pouring the contents of the jar, ever so slowly and steadily, the silver circle kept spreading. Brian watched and didn't say anything, even as the pouring went on for minute after minute.

When the last drop of the potion had spilled out of the jar and into the water, the entire surface of Old Larkin Pond was an unnatural, reflective silver with a strange shimmery quality that bent light in odd ways.

Alexandra raised both arms, with her black hickory wand in one hand. The rituals she'd prepared the night of the battle had really been for this—everything else had been secondary. She'd charmed Old Larkin Pond using the magic of the World Away, and prepared a distillation of her own memories, and combined that with alchemy she'd researched when she was living with her Artificer sisters, Lucilla and Drucilla.

When she completed the ritual, Old Larkin Pond glowed. Charlie cawed, but Brian ignored the raven, staring at the shimmering silver surface of what had been a brackish, polluted mud puddle while he and Alexandra were growing up.

"What do I do?" he asked.

Alexandra lowered her arms and looked at him, then she stepped into the water, which came up to her ankles. She took another step, letting her feet sink into the mud as the water came up to her knees. She held out her hand to Brian.

"You get in the pond. All the way."

Brian considered this, then sighed and pulled up his shirt. Alexandra was about to tell him he didn't need to do that, but she closed her mouth as he peeled his shirt off, exposing a much more athletic physique than she remembered.

Brian unlaced his shoes and pulled them off along with his socks, but left his pants on as he waded into the pond to join her.

She took his hand and led him to the middle of the pond. She'd once jumped into the pond in the dead of winter, through a layer of ice. She knew from experience that it wasn't very deep. But the water came up to their chests when they reached the center.

"It feels… weird." Brian held up one hand. The silvery liquid didn't cling to it.

"Magic." Alexandra could have explained in more detail, but she didn't think Brian would care. For as long as her spell lasted, the water in Old Larkin Pond wasn't just water. It was the liquid essence of memories. She faced him, keeping her eyes on his face and away from his bare chest and shoulders. "Now's the part where you really have to trust me, Brian. You need to submerge all the way under the surface… and breathe it in."

Brian's eyes widened. "Breathe water? Are you crazy? I'll drown!"

"No, you won't. Not if you trust me. But you have to make up your mind."

She reached for him. Something was there, in his eyes, as she laid her hands on his shoulders. It wasn't the same spark there had once been when they were together, but perhaps something was still buried in there.

"Okay, Alex," he said. "I trust you. But still… this is hard."

"I know."

"You promise it will be okay?"

She gave him a wan smile. Oh, Brian. I can't promise anything will ever be okay. "I promise you won't drown."

He nodded, took a deep breath, held it, and dunked his head. Alexandra kept her hands resting on his shoulders as he sank beneath the surface of the pond. She resisted the temptation to squeeze his shoulders, and just let him feel her hands lightly touching his skin, waiting for him to complete his part of the ritual.

Holding his breath delayed letting the magic of the pond take effect. But she understood his fear.

Finally, his entire body shuddered as he drew the liquid into his lungs. He almost came out of the water. His head broke the surface, and Alexandra wasn't sure if he'd taken in enough of the alchemical memories—if it would even work at all—but she didn't push him back down, knowing he had to go through with this on his own.

Then he took a deep breath, drawing in more of the liquid. It filled him, and when his head burst out of the water, Alexandra had to let go of him as he turned his face upward and cried out.

He staggered and splashed about a bit, until Alexandra caught one arm, and he allowed her to steady him.

She put her mouth to his ear and said, "Go back under, Brian. You have to stay under."

"A kappa!" Brian cried out.

"It's gone. You're remembering. But you have to remember more."

Brian looked around with wild eyes, as if afraid that a scaly monster with a misshapen head might come lunging out of the water at them.

"We're safe," Alexandra said. "That was a memory. It happened in the past, and all your other memories are waiting for you, if you want them."

He turned back to her. His face wasn't wet—the silvery liquid didn't cling. She couldn't tell what he was thinking or how much he had remembered so far. But slowly, he slid back under the water, and this time, he stayed there.

Alexandra kept her grip on his arm, but didn't pull him up until he rose on his own. When his head broke the surface this time, he cried out again, this time in an agonizing mixture of grief and shock and anger and years worth of other emotions.

"You!" he said. "You're a witch! You have a magic wand! We wrestled with a kappa and you told me about Redcaps, and there was that mannequin in the store! You told me about a magic bus and ghouls and hags and your sister—you have sisters, and Bonnie—Bonnie!" He cried out again, putting his hands to the sides of his head. "That night… that night… I asked you to save her and you said it was against the rules…"

Alexandra said nothing, but gently led him back to the shore as he babbled, with memories spilling out of him.

"In the Regal Royalty Warehouse the fence wasn't there, and you can unlock things with your mind and once you got us to jump off a roof—no, I remembered that even before, except the first time you didn't break anything—oh my God!"

He was becoming harder to support as they climbed out of the water—he was heavier than her, and he was on the verge of collapse. "Bonnie!" He fell to his knees, and sobbed.

Alexandra knelt next to him, ignoring the squishy mud. Tears ran down her face too, as she put her arms around him.

He turned his face toward hers. His mouth gaped open.

"You and me." Memories were still swirling in his head. "You and me, we were…"

"Yes," Alexandra said, laughing and crying at the same time.

"I still don't know what happened to my sister!" he said, and his face crumpled.

Alexandra held him as he wept, trying to control his emotions and five years of memories pouring through his head, swirling and settling and filling in previously empty spaces.


Alexandra said nothing as the sun climbed toward its zenith. The spell on Old Larkin Pond had faded. The silvery shimmer disappeared, leaving the water muddy brown again. Charlie became tired of sitting on a branch and flew off in search of bugs. Alexandra remained aware of the raven's location, but kept her attention on her own surroundings.

It was growing hot, so she cast a Shade Charm, still with her arms around Brian's bare shoulders. Brian pulled away and glanced at the circle of shade around them that was cast by nothing.

"I must really seem like a baby," he said.

"No," Alexandra said. "I just dumped a lot on you, and then I cast a spell that dumped even more, and I wasn't even sure it would work. To be honest, you're taking it better than I expected."

"It's still weird and confusing. Like… I'm still remembering little things, and even the big things I'm not sure are real, all the memories are swirling around in my head. God, Alex, it's scary what magic can do… I was always kind of scared of your magic. I'm sorry, but I was. Now I know why."

Alexandra sighed. "Magic can be scary." You have no idea.

He reached for his shirt and pulled it on. He wiped at his eyes and looked at Alexandra for a long time. She didn't look away from him.

"I don't think I have any new memories from the day Bonnie disappeared," he said. "If these wizards removed those memories, they're still gone. I don't feel like I'm missing anything… but I didn't feel like I was missing memories before."

"You probably didn't see anything." Alexandra hoped he hadn't. "You were out with me and Julia when Bonnie disappeared."

Brian's eyes were still fixed on hers. "You said you know what happened to her."

"Yes."

Brian took a deep breath. "I don't know if I'm ready."

Alexandra touched his hand. "We don't have to do this now."

He shook his head. "I need to. It's been… I don't know how to describe it, Alex. It's like our family died when Bonnie disappeared. Mom and Dad… they blame themselves, they blame me for not watching her, I blame myself…"

"It's not your fault, Brian. There's nothing you could have done."

"I come home and they hardly speak to each other, or me. We're leaving Larkin Mills—you probably saw the 'For Sale' sign."

Alexandra nodded.

"I think they're going to separate. They just haven't told me yet." His voice was flat. Alexandra realized he was struggling not to lose his composure again, so she just listened.

"You're sure Bonnie's dead?"

The sudden, direct question surprised her only a little, but she maintained her own composure, and said simply, "Yes."

"Did wizards do it?"

She hesitated, then said, "Yes."

He stared at her for a long time. Alexandra wasn't sure what he was thinking. She almost wanted him to scream at her, to blame her, to ask why she hadn't done something. Even if he lashed out at her, she could take that more easily than his quiet, painful attempt at stoicism.

"Okay," he said, taking another deep breath. "Tell me."

Alexandra took her hand off of his. She'd been thinking about what to tell him—how much to tell him, and how much explanation it would take. The WODAMND Act was moot, as far as she was concerned; if the Confederation survived, she almost certainly wouldn't, and she feared for anyone close to her. It was probably good that Brian would be leaving Larkin Mills. She had no idea if the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy even mattered anymore, when people were talking on the Internet about magical creatures and people on brooms, and even the news was starting to report odd stories. But it probably still wasn't a good idea to talk too openly about the wizarding world, and she didn't think Brian wanted a history lesson. So she gave him a very abbreviated version, about the Confederation, and the Deathly Regiment, and how she had seen Bonnie's name written in the Deathly Register and knew that she had been one of the children sacrificed to maintain the Confederation's power.

She could see he had a dozen questions swirling around in his head, and was having trouble deciding which ones to ask. But his voice cracked when he said, "I don't understand. Why Bonnie?"

That was one of many questions Alexandra couldn't answer. "I don't know."

"Was it… was it because of you?"

She had asked herself that often enough. She'd been expecting it, and still felt her heart grow cold when he asked it. He didn't even sound accusatory. He was just trying to make sense of why his sister had died.

"I don't know, Brian," she said honestly. "No one's told me how she was chosen. If you're thinking it's awfully coincidental that they happened to pick someone who knew me, you're right. And… I'm wanted by the Confederation. My father is, well, I guess you could call him a revolutionary." And many other things, but she didn't want to get into that either. "So it's possible that Bonnie died because she was my friend." She felt tears, unbidden, again.

Once, she had hated crying more than anything in the world. She still didn't like the feeling of powerlessness that came with letting her emotions spill out, but something about the release that had come at the peak of Mount Blanca made it seem a little less terrible now. She kept talking. "I won't blame you if you hold me responsible. I honestly don't know what I could have done to save her, but I'd do anything, even trade places with her, if that were possible. But I'm so, so sorry, Brian. The one thing I do know is that none of this is your fault. If they chose Bonnie for the Deathly Regiment, they were going to take her, and there's nothing you could have done to prevent it."

She waited for him to ask more questions, or to start shouting at her. He looked down at his hands, and finally asked, "How did they do it?"

She hadn't been expecting that question. "I… what do you mean?"

He swallowed hard. "Did they hurt her?"

"No," Alexandra said immediately, before she had time to think about it. "There's no pain. They don't even know what's going to happen."

She didn't actually know if this was true. She hoped it was true. But the lie had sprung to her lips without a second thought, and if ever she'd lied shamelessly, it was now. She met Brian's gaze with an earnest expression that harkened back to their earliest days of her using her powers of persuasion on him, and prayed that there was still a tiny bit of credulousness in him that she could reach.

His eyes swam with tears, and he nodded.

She reached for his hand again. "Anything else you want to know… anything… I'll tell you if I can."

"I don't think I can handle any more right now. All these memories sloshing around—it's hard to explain. I feel like I can't even tell what I knew already and what I didn't.'

Alexandra nodded. "I really didn't know how the spell would feel for you. Assuming it worked." He'd made no effort to hold her hand, or move closer, so she just asked, "Can I walk you home?"

He nodded.

"Let me get my stuff." She packed all her jars and pots and other paraphernalia into her pack. She held out her arm, and Charlie came swooping out of the air and landed on her forearm.

"Good bird," Alexandra said.

"Pretty bird," said Charlie. Brian watched as Charlie sank back into her skin, once more becoming a tattoo on her shoulder.

"Not sure I like the tattoos," he said. "But that's pretty boss."

The two of them walked through the field, and through Old Larkin, a rough neighborhood that now kept Alexandra constantly on guard, not for the people who whistled and catcalled at her and Brian, but for any lurking wizards who might drop out of the sky or Apparate before them. Once this would have been unlikely—Diana Grimm, if she showed up, would be waiting around a corner, or she'd creep up on them unawares until they turned around. Now, however, with a wizard war putting dragons and other fell creatures on TV, she wasn't sure the Confederation still cared about keeping magic secret.

They got to Sweetmaple Avenue. Archie's truck was gone—he must have had it towed.

Brian said, "I heard there was a shooting last night. I mean, someone heard gunshots. I was asleep, but I woke up when all the cops arrived outside your house."

"That's another long story. I'll tell you everything, if you want."

"I do want to hear everything." He turned to her. "Not right now, though. Can I… call you?"

"Any time."

They looked at each other for a long time. Alexandra was more conscious than she ever had been before of the houses on Sweetmaple Avenue, the neighbors who, with the exception of Mrs. Wilborough, were usually quiet and kept to themselves. But now she felt like eyes might be watching her through every window. Or a Special Inquisitor or a squad of Aurors, or maybe some "G-men," might arrive at any moment. She was going to have to leave Larkin Mills soon, she knew. Except she couldn't—not while Archie and Brian were still here. Someone had to protect them.

"Brian!" The voice calling to him was his mother. Mrs. Seabury stood in the doorway of their house, scowling at the two teens.

Alexandra smiled ruefully. "She still doesn't like me, does she?"

Brian didn't smile. "I don't care."

He leaned forward and kissed her. Alexandra hesitated, then kissed him back, and they held the kiss, even while Mrs. Seabury yelled, "Brian, don't you ignore me when I'm calling you!"

He turned and walked into his house. Mrs. Seabury stood there, arms folded across her chest, shaking her head. She scarcely glanced at Alexandra, and slammed the door shut after Brian.


Alexandra walked around Larkin Mills. She found the crack in the world that still ran from Old Larkin Pond through the town, passing under what the residents still thought of as the Regal Royalty Sweets and Confections Warehouse. It had closed before Alexandra was born, long before she and Claudia had arrived here in Larkin Mills, and the building hadn't been a warehouse for years. Alexandra's second-oldest sister, Livia Pruett, had used her inheritance to turn the place into a wizarding day school. This had been primarily for Alexandra's benefit, which was ironic since Alexandra had been a student there for only a few months. Livia said she'd be opening the school to students again in August, despite the brewing wizard war. There were still Muggle-borns who needed to learn magic.

Alexandra walked through the illusory fence around the former warehouse. The front door of the Pruett School still bore a wrought iron three-headed chimaera as a handle, and notwithstanding its fearsome appearance, it took only a simple Unlocking Charm to open. It felt good to cast spells at will after so many years of needing to refrain from magic while at home, always fearful of getting an owl from the Trace Office or a howler from Dean Grimm. She might be an Enemy of the Confederation now, but having left school, they no longer had a Trace on her.

Still, she didn't assume the warehouse wasn't watched. She let Charlie come to life again, and sent her familiar up to the roof to watch the outside as she entered.

Inside, it was quiet and dusty. The desks all sat in rows in the single classroom, and textbooks lined the shelves against the wall. Some looked new—perhaps Livia had persuaded Madam Erdglass, the ancient teacher who was so far the only instructor at the Pruett School, to use something besides the Young Wands teaching series. Alexandra walked into what had once been the main floor of the warehouse and was now the cafeteria/break area where students ate lunch. It was a large room dominated by an ancient cast iron boiler, which was actually a Floo nexus that could take someone all the way to Chicago. The Floo Powder necessary for such trips had been stored away somewhere—Alexandra saw none around the boiler. Perhaps there was some hidden elsewhere. She'd look later.

She walked up the stairs to the third floor, and confronted the portrait of Goody Pruett hanging there.

"You're back," said Goody Pruett, with the tone and expression of someone who'd just noticed an infestation of rats.

Goody Pruett, the founder of the chain of Goody Pruett's Witch-Made Pies and Pastries shops that existed throughout the Confederation, had also been a pureblood bigot, and the attitude of the living woman was forever captured in her magical portrait. Livia was Goody Pruett's direct descendant, but Alexandra, a mere half-sister from the non-Pruett side, merited no respect.

"I'm back," Alexandra said. "Did you miss me? Haven't you been lonely hanging here all by yourself, without any students to keep you company?"

The students at the Pruett School were mostly Muggle-borns. Goody Pruett certainly did not enjoy their company. Her face puckered up and she glowered at Alexandra. "Livia has not brought her child so that I may see the last Pruett."

"Gee, I wonder why. Maybe it's because you'd call him a Mudblood?"

Goody Pruett's eyes were dark and oily. "I was always a gracious hostess to all, even miscegenated spawn."

"I'm supposedly a pureblood, and you're sure not gracious to me."

"You're an ill-bred hellion with the manners of a Muggle and the breeding of a—"

"Watch it," Alexandra said, brandishing her wand. She couldn't actually damage the portrait—the charms that affixed it to the wall could only be dispelled by a Pruett heir, and those same charms made it almost indestructible. But she could cast Freeze-Frame Charms and other spells to blanket Goody Pruett in darkness, or simply Silence her. Goody Pruett closed her mouth and glared.

Alexandra hadn't come up here just to banter with a painting. "Has anyone besides Livia been here since school ended?"

"No. You and Livia both ply me with questions and demands so long as there's a use for me, and as soon as—"

Alexandra interrupted her. "Just so you know, the Dark Convention and my father, meaning also Livia's father, have gone to war with the Confederation. That means Livia is in danger, because they'll do anything to strike at our father's daughters."

"I am aware. What do you want me to do about it? Your father reaps the bitter harvest he has sown, a harvest of tainted blood and Dark magic, and unfortunately so shall his issue, more the fool Desirée for ever marrying a Thorn!"

"So you'd warn me if anyone else was around, or if you heard something?"

"Yes, you wretched child! My likeness was not captured to serve as a lookout to enable your illicit activities, but I will do what little I can for Livia's sake. Not that my descendant appreciates my efforts or dedication, wallowing in her affinity for Muggles—"

"That's enough," Alexandra said. "Pictogel." Her Freeze-Frame Spell froze Goody Pruett in place. The old woman would just scream louder when it wore off, but Alexandra was in no mood for her rants. She walked down the corridor to the large open room. This had once been her private studio, which she had used to practice magic out of sight of the Trace.

"Goody Pruett is aggravating," said a voice behind her, "but you should know better than to allow yourself to be provoked by a painting."

Alexandra spun around. Abraham Thorn stood in the shadows next to the door she'd just passed through, draped in his usual black robes and long cape. He was unconcerned about the wand pointed at him. Alexandra almost lowered it, then tightened her grip.

"Where did you hide my wand when you visited me in Larkin Mills last time?" she asked.

"In Old Larkin Pond," he answered smoothly. "So that you would learn to develop your Witch's Sight."

Alexandra lowered her wand. She looked around slowly. "Where's Medea?"

"She is not accompanying me at present."

"Have you already broken up with her?"

He fixed her with a stare that stilled her tongue. "She is busy, on a mission of her own, as is the rest of the Thorn Circle. I wish you would be less hostile to her."

Alexandra managed to speak again. "I'm not hostile to her. How did you know I'd come here? Or do you have some kind of alarum to tell you when I visit?"

"I called you here, using a charm to tug at your will. I am pleased you did not resist, as I would then have had to use more direct forms of communication, which is riskier now."

Alexandra immediately began applying her Occlumency training. She didn't know if her father was trying to read her mind, but she didn't want him in her head. She was quite annoyed that the spell she'd used on Brian had been so easily used on her, without her being aware of it.

"Melody Wilborough called me," he went on. If he was aware of Alexandra's attempts to block him from her mind, he didn't show it. "She told me that my silly fool of a youngest child—her words, my dear, not mine—was staying in Larkin Mills despite having already survived no less than three attempts on her life, for the sake of Claudia's husband."

"Yeah," Alexandra said. "Not just for Archie, but yeah. The Dark Convention already tried to attack, and only a Confederation Regiment drove them off. But Archie won't leave, and I can't make him. And please don't you make him. I know you could, but… that would be wrong."

Her father raised an eyebrow. "Even for his own good?"

"Is that what you think we should do to Muggles? Decide what's best for them, and then just make them do it? Why don't you just make me do what you want? You're always saying how aggravating and stubborn I am. I've been learning Occlumency, but I guess you could Imperius me if you really wanted to. For my own good."

"An interesting ethical argument. Why did you charm your Muggle friend?"

Of course he would know, Alexandra thought angrily. Maybe he'd been watching her, or maybe he'd already plucked it out of her mind. "I didn't make him do anything. Just like you didn't make me come here." Though she had to admit, she felt less righteous about it now.

"Alexandra, I am not here to cast judgment on you or to argue with you. But I am genuinely curious what you were doing with that boy at the pond."

So, he didn't know everything. Alexandra was tempted to give him a smart answer, and restrained herself. "He was Obliviated. I restored his memories."

Both her father's eyebrows went up now. "There's no spell for that."

"I had to work out the ritual on my own, from books Lucilla and Drucilla showed me. Using memory alchemy and my connection to Old Larkin Pond, which has been my magical anchor to Larkin Mills since before I even knew I was a witch. It was all kind of improvised, and I didn't know if it would work. But it did."

"Most impressive." Her father smiled proudly.

"What I'm wondering," Alexandra said, "is whether you ever tried something similar. With my mother."

His face sobered. "You know that Diana and Lilith had every expert they could find attempt it, including Glaucus Grue. I assume your Muggle friend's Obliviation was of a basic sort, selectively erasing certain memories… that is not what happened to Hecate. They took everything from her. Her Obliviation did not just destroy her memories, it destroyed her capacity to remember. There are no memories left to restore and no mind capable of holding them even if they could be restored. I understand why you're doing this, Alexandra, and what you have done is truly, remarkably impressive. Not merely for your age. But you cannot cure Hecate. That's beyond anyone's abilities. Some things truly are impossible."

"Even for you?"

He almost smiled. "Even for me. I am a great wizard—perhaps one of the greatest wizards of our age—but I am not omnipotent."

She weighed his words, and decided she wasn't entirely satisfied by his answer, but she couldn't explain why, and doubted she'd get anything more out of him by pressing the matter. So she asked, "Why did you call me here?"

"Because I want to know what you intend now, my beloved, troublesome daughter. We are past adolescent resentments and sulking, don't you think? The war has begun, and all of my children are in danger. I am doing what I can to protect you all, but you make it difficult if you insist on running around in plain sight without a plan. Are you ready to join me, Alexandra? Are you ready to stand with the Thorn Circle against the Confederation and the Deathly Regiment?"

Alexandra met her father's gaze, and once more wondered if he was using Legilimency on her, or if he knew that she was practicing Occlumency. It didn't really matter.

"Yes," she said.