Return to Roanoke

Later, Alexandra was told that it was Em who found her, alerted by Charlie's screeching in the basements. But Lilith Grimm was the first person she actually saw. The Dean found her in a strange oval cavern, Petrified in a posture that made her look as if she were trying to throw something.

Alexandra couldn't explain what it was she'd been doing, or how she'd gotten there, or who had cast a Body-Bind Charm on her. She also had no explanation for the partially-healed bruises, burns, and insect bites all over her body, or her fractured wrist.

She was taken to the infirmary, where Mrs. Murphy clucked and fussed over her, aghast and appalled. Her ruined clothes were taken away, and the nurse applied pastes and potions and healing charms, and then gave her a gown, promising she'd have a change of clothes brought from her room.

Alexandra knew there was something very wrong, especially when she asked where Maximilian was.

She was growing angry at the way all the adults were giving each other grim looks and refusing to answer her questions, and keeping her friends away from her. She was about to jump off the bed in the infirmary and leave, when she heard two very familiar, and very similar, voices arguing outside.

“She doesn't know!” Ms. Grimm was saying. “She doesn't remember!”

“We have to talk to her, Lilith,” Ms. Grimm replied calmly.

Alexandra blinked. Both voices were Ms. Grimm. So Diana Grimm was here, too. What was going on?

She was still wearing nothing more than a thin gown under the blanket Mrs. Murphy had given her to keep warm, so she wasn't at all happy to see a man enter the infirmary, along with Mrs. Murphy and the Grimm sisters.

Lilith Grimm looked furious. Diana Grimm's expression was carefully neutral.

Alexandra recognized the man by his bald, deeply tanned head, even before she saw he was wearing the same red shirt and black gloves and cloak he'd been wearing the first time she'd met him. His name was Richard Raspire, and he was one of the Governor-General's personal aides.

“There are laws concerning the interrogation of children,” Dean Grimm snapped. “She has a right to a guardian –”

Her sister cut her off. “Those laws don't apply to the Office of Special Inquisitions, Lilith. You know that.” Side by side, the two women were disturbing in how alike they were. They wore different clothes, but other than that, their faces, their hair, their postures, their voices, were all identical.

Raspire turned on the Dean, and added, with a tight-lipped smile, “And I have the personal authorization of the Governor-General himself. I can do anything I feel is necessary.”

“Anything within reason,” Diana Grimm corrected him coolly. She put a hand on her sister's arm. “Lilith.” She seemed to be trying to reassure the other woman. “We're just going to ask her some questions.”

“You may go, Dean Grimm,” said Raspire dismissively.

“She'll be fine.” Diana Grimm spoke in a softer tone, as the Dean's eyes flashed angrily.

Lilith Grimm glanced in Alexandra's direction. Alexandra, by now, was feeling quite annoyed that these three had reached her bedside without even acknowledging that the subject of their conversation was right in front of them, listening to them debate over what could and couldn't be done to her. For a moment, the Dean's expression seemed to soften a little. Then she nodded stiffly, and turned on her heel and walked out of the infirmary.

“Hello, Alexandra,” said Diana Grimm.

“Do you remember me, Miss Quick?” asked Mr. Raspire sternly.

Alexandra nodded.

The two adults pulled up chairs, and sat down next to her bed. Alexandra's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

“Richard,” said Ms. Grimm. “Let me. Please.”

The bald warlock glanced at her, then nodded.

The older witch turned to Alexandra. “I know you're angry, and probably very confused. Is that a fair assessment?”

Alexandra nodded again.

“Whether you believe me or not,” Ms. Grimm told her, “I don't want to make this more difficult or unpleasant than it has to be. The sooner you answer our questions, the sooner we'll be gone. You can make this quick and painless, or you can make it a trial for all of us. That's your choice, Alexandra.”

“Fine,” Alexandra answered, through clenched teeth. “But Dean Grimm was right. I don't remember anything.”

“Can you tell us what's the last thing you do remember?”

Alexandra had been trying to figure that out herself. “Max and I, I think we...” She frowned.

“Yes?” Raspire prompted eagerly. Grimm shook her head at him.

“We were going to meet our father,” Alexandra mumbled.

“About what?” Raspire demanded.

“I don't know!” Alexandra snapped. “I told you everything after the last time I spoke to him, in Roanoke.” She glared at Ms. Grimm. “He promised he'd speak to me again, but since you keep chasing him around, it's been kind of hard. Where's my brother?”

Ms. Grimm's gray eyes studied hers a while, before she spoke.

“Maximilian is dead, Alexandra.”

Alexandra felt as if someone had just punched her in the stomach. She clenched her fists. “No,” she whispered. “You're lying.”

But though she struggled to remember what it was she and Maximilian had done last – she had some vague idea that there had been something very important they were going to do – she knew, down deep, that Ms. Grimm was telling the truth, and that somehow, she'd known it even before she heard the words. She shook her head.

“You and he disappeared for a week, and you came back with his wand,” Diana Grimm told her. “Where were you?”

“I don't know,” Alexandra replied thickly.

“You used the obol you stole from Darla Dearborn, didn't you?” Grimm asked.

“I don't remember.”

“You went to the Underworld!” Raspire growled. “How did you come back? How?”

“I don't know! I don't remember!” Alexandra shouted. She gritted her teeth. She wanted to cry, and she desperately wanted not to cry. How could she mourn her brother when she didn't even understand how he had died? “How do you know he's dead?”

“The Mortality Clock his mother keeps, and his ancestors' ghosts told us,” Grimm replied, speaking in a calm, even tone. “We've already sent his wand back to Chicago for the Trace Office to confirm that it is no longer kinned to a living wizard, but we're already sure... I'm sorry, Alexandra. I really am.”

Alexandra looked down. She swallowed past a lump in her throat, and wiped at her eyes.

The Special Inquisitor seemed sympathetic, but that didn't keep them both from continuing to ask Alexandra questions she couldn't answer. She didn't know anything about the Lands Below, other than what she'd read in some book. She didn't know what had happened to Darla's obol. She didn't know how she'd been injured. She didn't know where she had been, or that she had been missing for a week and feared dead herself.

“Well,” said Mr. Raspire, at last. “I believe you, Alexandra. But, I think just to be sure, there are a few more questions I want to ask you.”

He reached into a vest pocket, and withdrew a vial of colorless liquid.

“Richard, I really don't think that's necessary,” Ms. Grimm objected.

He gave her a thin smile. “I think it is.” He handed the vial to Alexandra. “Drink this, Miss Quick.”

Alexandra took it. “What is it?”

“Veritaserum.” Ms. Grimm's tone was flat.

Alexandra stared at the vial, and then looked at the two Confederation wizards.

“What if I refuse?” she asked.

Ms. Grimm didn't blink, merely sat there with an unchanging expression.

Mr. Raspire smiled.

Glaring at him, Alexandra unstoppered the vial, and poured its contents down her throat.

Raspire nodded approvingly. “Very good, Alexandra.” She was infuriated by his smug, patronizing tone, but Alexandra struggled to keep her own face as impassive as Ms. Grimm's. Raspire began questioning her again – mostly the same questions he'd already asked her. She found the answers tumbling from her lips, now, as if she couldn't wait to tell him everything; if she even briefly considered not answering, or lying, she blurted out the truth before she could think twice about withholding it.

But all of her answers were the same as before.

She was exhausted, tired, and hungry when they finished interrogating her.

“Incredible,” Raspire muttered, under his breath, as they rose to leave. “He Obliviated his own daughter.”

Alexandra turned away from them, and lay down in her bed, with her back to them.

Diana Grimm leaned over, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“I really am sorry, Alexandra,” she said, and then she and Raspire left.

Mrs. Murphy brought her dinner, and told her she was to stay in the infirmary until the next day. Alexandra nodded, and waited until the nurse left her alone before she listlessly ate her food, and then lay back down and closed her eyes.

She didn't make a sound, but every time she woke up that night, her eyes were damp.

Alexandra woke up before dawn the next morning. She stared up at the ceiling for a while, and then finally turned her head, and saw that a change of clothes had been brought from her room. She knew she wasn't going to fall back asleep, and she had no desire to keep lying there in the dark. She didn't see Mrs. Murphy around to stop her from leaving, so she slid out of bed, wincing as her feet hit the floor. It wasn't just the cold – the bottoms of her feet felt blistered and sore.

She paused, as she pulled off her gown, and wondered where her locket was. Hadn't she been wearing it? That thought sent a cold, leaden sensation snaking through her stomach, though she wasn't sure why.

She got dressed, a bit clumsily with one wrist still wrapped tightly, and was about to leave the infirmary when Dean Grimm walked in.

“I don't think Mrs. Murphy has released you yet, Miss Quick,” the Dean said.

Alexandra didn't even question how the Dean happened to be there as soon as she woke up.

“I want to check on Charlie,” Alexandra told her. “And I really want a shower.”

That was true, though what she really wanted was to get away from here, and the scrutiny of adults who knew more than she did about what was going on.

The infirmary was mostly dark; a lamp near the nurse's office shed light from behind Ms. Grimm, so Alexandra could only see half of her profile. The Dean nodded slowly.

“That's understandable.”

“Are you going to Petrify me or expel me if I leave without permission?” Alexandra asked.

“Miss Quick, I know this is a terrible time for you, and I am not unsympathetic. But even your loss does not give you license to indulge in insolence and insubordination.”

Alexandra looked away. She wasn't even really angry at Dean Grimm. She didn't know who to be angry at.

“You don't need to return to class immediately,” the Dean said. Her voice almost sounded gentle. “And... I understand funeral arrangements for your brother are being made now.” She paused. “I believe I can see to it that you are able to attend. You can make up your missed classwork.”

Alexandra swallowed. Would Maximilian's mother and sister want her at Max's funeral? They would have questions for her, too – questions she couldn't answer. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“If you need to talk to someone, Miss Quick... My door is open. As is Dean Black's, of course, and I'm sure Mrs. Murphy or Ms. Shirtliffe would also be more than willing to help you in any way they can.”

Alexandra nodded. She couldn't really see herself talking to any of them. “Won't I need permission from my mother, to go to Roanoke again?” Then another thought occurred to her. “You did let her know I'm all right, didn't you?”

Ms. Grimm cleared her throat. “We hadn't yet notified her that you were missing.”

Alexandra stared at the Dean.

“You understand, it can be difficult to explain things like this to Muggles,” Ms. Grimm continued. “This wasn't a situation where Muggle authorities could be of any help whatsoever. There was nothing she could do, and we couldn't even tell her –”

“So if my parents were wizards, you'd have told them, but since my mother is just a Muggle, no need to tell her anything? 'Cause it's not like she could send the police after you, or sue you.” Alexandra shook her head. “What if I never came back? How long would you have waited before deciding I was dead, and telling her that?”

Despite Alexandra's interruption, the Dean was actually quiet for a moment. “It's not a perfect system, Alexandra,” she said at last. “We do our best to integrate Muggle-borns into our world.”

Another time, Alexandra might have had an angry response to that. Right now, she wasn't in the mood to argue with Dean Grimm.

“Can I go?” she asked.

Ms. Grimm nodded, and stepped aside. “Do remember what I said, Miss Quick. If you need to talk.”

It won't be with you, Alexandra thought, but she nodded and pushed through the doors of the infirmary with her good hand.

The warlock hanging over Delta Delta Kappa Tau hall looked surprised to see her, and he actually smiled. “Miss Quick! You've been missing!”

“So I've heard.” She didn't want to talk to him either.

She reached the door to her room, took a deep breath, and opened it.

Anna was sleeping, until Charlie loudly cawed, “Alexandra!” and flapped into her arms.

Alexandra nuzzled the raven against her cheek. Anna sprang out of bed, and then almost knocked her over, wrapping her arms around Alexandra's waist and pressing her face against the taller girl's shoulder, sobbing.

“Easy, Anna,” Alexandra said hoarsely. “You almost squashed Charlie.”

“Alexandra!” Charlie repeated. “Pretty bird!”

“You've been missing for a week!” Anna wailed. “You said you and Max were just going to meet your father last weekend! Then I found out you and Max got in a fight with John Manuelito and Darla down in the basements! And there were all these rumors... Then WJD agents came to the school and interrogated me and everyone else who knew you! I had to tell them everything, and Dean Grimm threatened to expel me for not telling her in the first place!”

Alexandra sighed, and patted Anna on the back. A fight with John and Darla? She didn't remember that either. There was a huge block of time that was just... missing.

“I heard you were really hurt when they found you,” Anna mumbled. She finally looked up at Alexandra, with tears streaking her face. “I thought you were dead.”

“Max is dead,” Alexandra said. The words felt unreal. She still felt empty. How could Max be dead? Hadn't she just spoken to him, the day before?

Anna turned pale. “I...I heard. I'm so sorry, Alex.”

Her roommate finally let go of her, and Alexandra sat down slowly on her bed. She looked at Nigel's cage, and Anna said quickly, “I took care of Nigel. He tried to bite me. But I cleaned his cage, and fed him.”

Alexandra nodded. “Thank you.”

The door to the bathroom opened, and Angelique peeked her head through.

“Alexandra?” she inquired softly.

“Come on in, Angelique.” Alexandra gestured at her wearily.

Darla's roommate stepped into their room, looking uncomfortable. Alexandra expected to hear some nasty comments from Honey, but the jarvey was silent – or Silenced.

“I heard about your brother,” Angelique said, looking down. “I'm really sorry.”

Alexandra nodded. “I don't remember. I don't remember anything that happened.” The other two girls blinked at her in surprise. Alexandra ran her fingers through her hair, and then rested her head in her hands. “They said my father Obliviated me. So my brother's dead, and I don't remember anything. I don't remember a fight, I don't remember going to the Lands Below, I don't remember how I got back. Everyone's going to ask me questions, and I don't remember!”

She was staring at the floor, while Anna and Angelique looked at each other. Then Anna put a hand on her shoulder.

“We'll make sure no one bothers you. Right, Angelique?”

Angelique looked startled, then nodded. “Yes,” she agreed.

“Where's Darla?” Alexandra mumbled.

The girls looked startled at this, too. Angelique cleared her throat. “She was expelled. Along with all the other Mors Mortis Society members.”

“Thirteen students,” said Anna.

“They found out which of us were part of it in the beginning of the year, too,” Angelique mumbled. “We're on probation.”

Alexandra shrugged. She didn't care if she was on probation. “I really want a shower. I feel like I haven't had one in days.”

“Go ahead,” Anna urged her.

“Take your time,” Angelique said softly.

By the time she got out of the shower, the Pritchards were in her room, too, and Alexandra had to endure another round of hugs and tears, before they went to breakfast. David was waiting at the entrance to Delta Delta Kappa Tau hall, arguing with the warlock overhead. His face lit up when he saw Alexandra.

“Alex!”

“Hi, David.” She was glad to see him, but couldn't muster a smile.

They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment.

“You don't have to hug me,” Alexandra told him.

He looked relieved, and nodded. “I'm sorry about your brother.” He looked down. “I don't know what to say.”

“What you said is fine.”

Conversations in the cafeteria died, and almost everyone stared at her, when she entered. Her friends surrounded her, though it didn't seem to be necessary. No one bothered her, except with whispers and muttering behind her back. She passed the table where the ninth grade boys sat. Larry Albo watched her quietly, but didn't say anything. The Rash twins gave her their usual sneers, but abruptly found their plates more interesting when Constance and Forbearance both stared them down.

Alexandra looked at the table where the BMI students were sitting, and felt a lump in her throat at the empty spot where Maximilian should have been. Her friends led her to their usual table, and they sat down silently.

Then the Stormcrows, along with the entire JROC contingent, rose from their seats, marched over, and sat down at the same table with her, surrounding her and her friends on both sides. Each of the BMI students approached her, and gave their condolences.

“We'll all be at your brother's funeral,” said Mage-Sergeant Major Franklin. “Along with most of his class from BMI.”

Alexandra nodded mutely.

Beatrice was in tears. So was Martin. Beatrice gave her a hug, which surprised her. Then Martin did, too. Alexandra would have been annoyed at this, except that Martin truly looked more distraught than her.

She was glad she didn't have to go to class that day. She couldn't bear much more sympathy mixed with suspicion and morbid curiosity.

She found out that Maximilian's funeral would be in three days' time. Alexandra didn't question the arrangements. If Dean Grimm said she could go, that was good enough for her. She couldn't even think about what she'd say to her mother when she returned to Larkin Mills. Anna offered to cut class to stay with her, but Alexandra told her she would be fine.

Left alone in her room that day, she wrote a very short letter, addressed to Julia:

Dear Julia,

They told me I can come to Maximilian's funeral. I would like to, but I don't want to hurt you or your mother. I think somehow he died because of me, but I don't remember. I don't have any memories at all of what happened.

If you don't want me to come, just let me know, and I promise I won't bother you again.

Alexandra

She sent this by school owl to Croatoa, where she assumed Julia would be now.

Alexandra spent the next two days reading about Memory Charms and Obliviation in the library, and then, out of boredom, catching up with her lessons. She didn't care about the SPAWN, but studying was an easy way to distract her mind. As soon as classes ended, her friends would find her, and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with her. At first they seemed nervous, unsure what to say, afraid of being too solicitous and afraid of being insensitive. They soon realized Alexandra was content just to have them spend time with her. They even played a few games of Wizardopoly and Heart of Three Kingdoms.

Anna had become increasingly worried as she watched her roommate, though Alexandra wasn't sure why. She kept insisting she was fine. Beatrice and Martin, and other members of the JROC, would also check on her every evening. Each time, Alexandra assured them, too, that she was fine.

The evening before she was to leave the next morning for the Chicago Wizardrail station, an owl tapped at their window. Anna was in the room with her, and looked surprised when it wasn't Jingwei. Alexandra calmly untied the letter the owl carried, and gave the bird a treat. Her hands only shook a little when she opened it.

It was from Julia, and it said:

Dear Alexandra,

Of course Mother and I want you to come, and you will stay with us while you are here. Please don't be foolish.

Your sister,

Julia

Alexandra swallowed hard, as her eyes lingered on the closing line: Your sister.

“May I?” Anna asked softly, pointing at the letter.

Alexandra shrugged, and handed it to her. Anna read it, and looked up at her friend. She laid it carefully on Alexandra's desk, and smiled gently. “I'll help you pack,” she said.

Alexandra didn't really have much to pack. She didn't expect to stay longer than a day or two. She was not looking forward to the long train ride, and she was particularly not looking forward to sharing a compartment with the five BMI students who had come to Charmbridge on the MASE program, with Maximilian. She didn't dislike any of them – not any more – but other than Beatrice and Martin, she didn't really know any of them well, and she didn't want to be the lone, bereaved little girl in a compartment full of older teens.

Unlike the Stormcrows, she did not travel in uniform. But she brought her uniform along, to wear to Maximilian's funeral. She also brought Charlie. She kept the bird cage door locked, and after she reacted to Charlie's initial objections with a curt reprimand and an ominous glare, the raven remained mostly quiet throughout the trip.

Beatrice and Martin sat on either side of her aboard the Roanoke Underhill. Beatrice would chat with her occasionally, telling her stories about Max from their years at BMI. The other Stormcrows offered to play Exploding Snap, and when Alexandra declined, they began playing Tarot Poker for pidges. When Alexandra no longer felt like talking, Beatrice read a book. Martin stared out the window, even when they went 'underhill' and there was nothing out there to see but darkness.

Throughout the trip, Alexandra felt detached and numb. It was only when they arrived at the Blacksburg Wizardrail station that her heart began thudding in her chest, as she filed out of the train with Maximilian's classmates, knowing that Julia and Ms. King would be waiting for her.

As if sensing her apprehension, Beatrice put a hand on her shoulder as they walked into the station.

Alexandra saw Ms. King first. Maximilian's mother was standing near the exit, dressed in black. Black robes, black gloves, a high-collared black cloak, and a black scarf covering her hair. Alexandra approached her nervously, but Julia stepped out from behind her mother, also dressed in black. With her hair tied back in a severe bun, and no makeup, her black robes had the effect of making her face look even more terribly pale. Her eyes were red, and she was holding a handkerchief.

She tucked this into a pocket, and then rushed over to embrace Alexandra. She said nothing, only trembled. Alexandra put her arms around her half-sister, and couldn't think of anything to say.

“We'd all like to express our deepest condolences, ma'am,” said Mage-Sergeant Major Tybalt Franklin, as the Stormcrows stood stiffly before Maximilian's family. “Maximilian was our friend and classmate, and we know... whatever happened, he was brave and honorable, to the end.”

“Thank you,” Ms. King said quietly, nodding to the leader of the Stormcrows. Julia burst into tears, and so did Martin.

“We'll see you tomorrow, at the funeral,” Beatrice told Alexandra, with a sad smile. “But if you need anything at all, just send an owl... or your raven.”

Alexandra nodded. “Thank you, Beatrice.”

The Stormcrows marched off – they would be quartered at BMI, Alexandra had been told – and Ms. King led Alexandra and Julia outside, to ride the Thestral-drawn carriage to Croatoa.

Croatoa was a house in mourning, but the Kings were so considerate towards Alexandra, it made her feel guilty to be there. Ms. King remained poised and genteel at all times, but Alexandra could tell the woman was forcing herself to look after her daughter and her guest, while shouldering a crippling burden of grief. Myrta Applegate and Samuel Hunter both came by to check on the family, looking as sad as everyone else.

If the house-elves had been solicitous on Alexandra's last visit, they were positively falling over themselves now to make sure none of the witches had to so much as lift a finger. When they weren't waiting on someone, they were bursting into tears. Alexandra couldn't bear to send Deezie away, even though the weeping house-elf was all but glued to her leg now.

Julia cried most of the time, too. She hugged Alexandra constantly, and assured her that it wasn't her fault and that no one blamed her. She only asked once what Alexandra remembered, and Alexandra guiltily told her that she remembered nothing. Julia accepted that. They sat in her room, and Julia asked all about what Maximilian had been doing at Charmbridge. She wanted every memory she could get of her lost brother, Alexandra realized, so she did her best to oblige, talking about the JROC, and their excursions with Martin and Beatrice to practice flying and wizard-dueling.

She didn't tell Julia about the Mors Mortis Society, though. She waited until that evening, when Julia turned in early, and then she went downstairs to find Ms. King.

The bereaved mother was in one of the mansion's sitting rooms. She must have banished the house-elves from her presence, because she was alone when Alexandra knocked on the door, and Deezie and Rolly, who had both followed her downstairs, remained outside when Ms. King bade her enter.

As she did, Alexandra saw the Mortality Clock sitting on the mantel. It had three hands, labeled 'Thalia,' 'Julia,' and 'Maximilian.' Instead of numbers, its positions were marked by words in colored boxes: 'Hearty and Hale,' 'Peaked and Pale,' all the way down to 'On Death's Door.'

And then there was a narrow black wedge with no words on it at all, and that's where Maximilian's hand now pointed. Alexandra swallowed, thinking how terrible it must have been for Ms. King to see her son's hand swing to that spot.

Ms. King had a large stone bowl on a table in front of her. Alexandra saw that the bowl was filled with a glistening, silvery liquid. She was puzzled by this – was Maximilian's mother performing some sort of ritual? She bit her lip, holding back questions, but Ms. King smiled and gestured at the bowl.

“This is called a Pensieve,” she told her. “Have you ever seen one before?”

Alexandra shook her head, staring at the glistening film on the surface of the water. It seemed to shine with its own light.

“Lower your face into the water,” Ms. King instructed her. “Go ahead – it's all right, I assure you. You can hold your breath if you like, though you don't need to. But keep your eyes open.”

Alexandra hesitated, and then slowly leaned forward, and dunked her face into the basin.

At first, she only saw the bottom of the bowl, and then, it was as if she were tumbling down, through a window in the sky and onto a grassy hillside, which she immediately recognized as the meadow below the King mansion.

And she was standing next to Ms. King, who looked a little bit younger, and not quite as heavy, and Samuel Hunter, who looked almost exactly as he had this morning.

“Only around the meadow,” said Ms. King. “And no flying.”

“Yes, Mother,” replied Maximilian.

Alexandra gasped. It was a much younger Maximilian who was sitting astride a beautiful Granian. He couldn't have been more than eight years old.

“I want to ride, too!” howled a little girl whom Alexandra hadn't noticed until now. The pretty, dark-haired girl standing a few yards away, with the tall grass of the meadow coming up to her knees, looked about five. “I want to ride Misoo!”

“I told you that it will be your turn later, Julia,” said Ms. King. “We promised Maximilian his first solo ride today.” And she added, in a very firm voice: “Young witches who behave in a disagreeable manner get sent inside with the house-elves.”

Julia closed her mouth, sniffled, and looked as if she might burst with indignation.

“All right, young man,” said Mr. Hunter. “Take 'er easy now.”

Maximilian set off on the back of the Granian, riding easily down the hill, and then letting the horse break into a canter as they reached the bottom and circled around.

As they came back up the hill, on the opposite side of the meadow, the Granian began to run faster and faster, and spread its wings.

Maximilian laughed with delight.

“Control her, boy!” yelled Mr. Hunter.

“Maximilian!” Ms. King called, sounding only a little bit anxious.

But the Granian took off, and Maximilian rode it in a circle overhead, soaring almost all the way back up to the mansion, before descending back to the meadow, to land three horse-lengths from the adults.

He knew he was in trouble immediately, of course. His eager face, flushed with excitement, became downcast as his mother began scolding him and Mr. Hunter took the reins from his hands. Julia was smiling the kind of smile that could only come from a little sister watching her big brother get in trouble.

The scene faded, and then Alexandra was standing in front of Maximilian and Ms. King again. This time, she recognized the Blacksburg Wizardrail station. A slightly older Julia was almost at her elbow, though the other girl was still no more aware of Alexandra's presence than the others were. Maximilian now looked almost Alexandra's age. He was young and handsome, standing proudly in what was obviously a brand new BMI uniform.

“I expect to receive an owl at least once a week,” his mother told him. “And more often than that would not be unwelcome.”

Maximilian replied, “Yes, Mother,” but looked as if he were trying not to roll his eyes.

A bus with a sign saying 'Blacksburg Magery Institute' was pulling into the roundabout in front of the train station, and Alexandra could see many other young boys and girls in uniform, brand new wands who had not yet earned the right to call themselves 'Stormcrows,' waiting nervously.

“Well,” sighed Ms. King. She smiled. Speaking in a much lower voice, she murmured, “I love you, Maximilian.”

“IloveyoutooMother,” he mumbled in a rush, under his breath, his eyes darting side to side, fearful that one of the other BMI students might hear him.

“Don't worry,” said Ms. King, with a twinkle in her eye. “I won't embarrass you by doing something horrible, like hugging my own s–”

Julia, Alexandra noticed, had been sniffling, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief, and just as the doors of the BMI bus opened and a rough-looking squad of older Stormcrows spilled out and began bellowing commands at the terrified youngsters, Maximilian's sister wailed, “I'm going to miss you, Max!” And she threw herself at her brother, wrapping her arms around him and weeping, immediately drawing the attention of every student at the station.

This scene swirled and dissolved, and Alexandra was now in a room alone with Ms. King and a baby. Her hostess was lying in a large bed, in what Alexandra guessed to be her bedroom here at Croatoa. Ms. King looked significantly younger now, and very tired.

The infant in her arms was clearly newborn. For the first time, Alexandra felt uncomfortably like a voyeur, when she realized that Ms. King was holding the baby to her bare breast, nursing.

Then the bedroom door opened.

“Sir,” came the high, squeaky voice of an elf. “Sir, please sir, momma and baby is resting –”

“Thalia,” said Abraham Thorn, with a smile of delight, as he stepped through the doorway.

“It's all right, Nina,” Ms. King called, in a weary voice. (But she would be 'Mrs. Thorn' now, Alexandra recalled.)

“Poor, stubborn creatures,” sighed Alexandra's father, closing the door. He walked over to the new mother's bedside. He knelt, and gazed with adoration at the nursing infant. Abraham Thorn looked younger, too, though not much changed, other than that there was no trace of gray in his hair, and there were no lines on his face, which he now turned towards his wife. “I'm sorry I wasn't here, Thalia. I know I said I would be, but there was a very important vote on the Majokai issue, and those paleo-pagans from Mesa were threatening to curse –”

“Abraham,” interrupted Thalia Thorn. “I'm sure it was very important, but you really cannot imagine how much I don't care about the Wizards' Congress right now.”

Her husband bowed his head. “Of course. Forgive me, my darling.”

She smiled, and ran a hand gently through his hair, while the other cradled the baby at her breast.

“So,” she murmured. “Are you going to say hello to your son?”

Abraham Thorn beamed with pride, and leaned forward, to very gently kiss the back of the baby's head.

“My son,” he breathed. “My beloved son. My Maximilian.”

Alexandra pulled her head out of the bowl, and breathed heavily.

Ms. King was smiling at her sadly.

“Those were... memories,” Alexandra murmured.

Ms. King nodded. “A Pensieve allows you to store memories... take them out of your head for a little while, to give you peace of mind. Or so that you can experience them at leisure, as often as you like. Even share them.”

Alexandra swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ms. King patted the sofa she was sitting on, and Alexandra came around the table, to sit next to her.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” the older witch asked.

Alexandra looked down at her hands. “You know that I... don't have any memories, about what happened. The Inquisitors said my... my father, Obliviated me.”

Ms. King nodded. “I know,” she said softly. “You obviously saw things Abraham didn't want you to tell the Inquisitors.”

“But I do remember a few things I didn't tell Julia,” Alexandra muttered. “Things I... I think you have a right to know. I don't know if this is what got Maximilian killed. I don't know how I was involved, but...”

Ms. King waited patiently, and Alexandra told her about the Mors Mortis Society, and what Maximilian had told her about his mission, for the Wizard Justice Department. She remembered telling Abraham Thorn about this, too.

When she finished, Ms. King just pressed her lips together, then patted Alexandra's hand, and squeezed it.

“Thank you for telling me that, Alexandra,” she said. “I'm not sure what I will do about it, if anything.” She sighed, and shook her head. “They turned my own son into an underage Inquisitor. I think they should be more worried about what his father will do when he finds out.” She looked at Alexandra again.

“I'm sure it wasn't your fault, Alexandra. Your involvement was probably accidental. I doubt Abraham would have wanted you put in danger.”

Alexandra nodded, though she was unconvinced. She still felt as if she were at fault. Maybe she would always feel that way, not knowing the truth.

“Are you angry at your father?” the other witch asked.

Alexandra looked at her, surprised. She licked her lips. “I... I don't know. I feel like I should be. I'm just not sure why.”

Ms. King nodded. “I feel the same way. You asked me last time, if I were angry at him. Well, I don't think I can ever forgive him for outliving his son. But I don't... I don't want my anger to poison you or J-Julia...”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and Alexandra reached out, tentatively, and Ms. King pulled her against her and embraced her.

Even the portraits in the house were in mourning. They watched Julia and Alexandra somberly as they passed up and down the hallways, and Alexandra half-expected 'Great-Aunt Virginia' to tell her that she wasn't dressed appropriately for mourning, but the old witch said nothing.

Alexandra looked out her window, that night, and saw ghosts holding vigil, down by the trees.

A thought came to her, then, and she ran to Julia's room and knocked on her door.

Julia opened it – she had supposedly gone to bed, and her room was dark, but she was red-eyed, and obviously had not been sleeping.

“Julia...” Alexandra swallowed. She wasn't sure how to ask this. Her sister looked at her, then caused a lamp to light, with a tap of her wand, and bade Alexandra enter. She sat down on her bed, and Alexandra sat next to her.

“I was just wondering...” Alexandra looked down at her hands. “Absalom Thorn is our great-great-great-great grandfather, right?”

Julia nodded, looking a little puzzled.

“And there are other ghosts down there, who are your ancestors? Family?”

“Yes,” Julia replied, frowning a little.

“At Charmbridge...” Alexandra hesitated. “Diana Grimm told me that your family's ghosts confirmed Maximilian is dead.”

Julia reached out and took her hand. “Our family,” she said softly. “Yes. Alexandra...”

“How did they know?”

Julia looked as if she knew where this was leading. “I don't know exactly,” she replied quietly, “but I think ghosts just know, when their kin have crossed over. They were all wizards; they can't cast spells any more, but there is some magic they take with them into the afterlife. But –”

“Maybe Max is down there!” Alexandra whispered. She felt her eyes burn, and she couldn't say any more, past the lump in her throat. But the possibility of being able to see Max again – even as a ghost – was something she desperately hoped for.

Tears ran down Julia's cheeks, and she shook her head.

“He's not,” she said, as she wiped at her eyes. “Most of us just... move on, when we die, Alex. And... I know why you'd think that Max might not, why you'd hope for that. Part of me did, too. I hoped for it, and I was afraid of that at the same time. Max was so – so strong-willed, and he wanted to protect his mother, and his sisters, so much...” Her voice broke, and she had to take several breaths before she could continue. “If anyone would be stubborn enough to stay behind, it would be him.”

But he didn't, Alexandra thought. He didn't stay behind. He left us.

Julia seemed to sense what Alexandra was thinking, and she slipped her arms around the younger girl, and pulled her close. “But you wouldn't really want that, Alexandra,” she whispered in her sister's ear. “Ghosts are unhappy souls. They're trapped on earth long after whatever business held them here is over. They can never be at peace. You wouldn't really want that for Max, would you?”

Alexandra shook her head. She felt terrible that she had wanted it.

“It's all right, Alex,” Julia murmured. “It's all right.” She rocked her half-sister gently, comforting herself more than she was comforting Alexandra.

The next morning was the funeral. Since there was no body, there were no remains to take to the family crypt, so the memorial was being held at the Blacksburg Magery Institute. It wasn't just because Maximilian had spent the last six years of his life there, and that all of his friends were there, Ms. King had explained, but also the fact that, now that everyone knew that he had been Abraham Thorn's son, there would be intense public interest in the circumstances of his death. The Commandant of BMI had promised that they could keep reporters and other unwelcome guests off the school grounds.

Julia wore a straight black robe, a pointed hat, long black gloves, and a veil. Alexandra was dressed in her JROC uniform. She had strictly forbidden Deezie to touch it, and spent an hour that morning making sure that every crease, every button, every pin and ribbon, was impeccably arranged.

They all ate a very light breakfast. Ms. King seemed lost in thought – which was hardly unexpected. But Alexandra was a little surprised when she told the house-elves to clear the table, and then requested, “May I speak to you in the sitting room, Alexandra?”

Alexandra exchanged a look with Julia, who raised her eyebrows and gave a tiny shrug, shaking her head.

“Yes, ma'am,” Alexandra replied, and rose from the table to follow Ms. King into the same room where they had spoken the previous night.

Ms. King closed the doors behind her, and sat on the other side of the table again. She had put away the Pensieve, so Alexandra wasn't sure what this about. Ms. King gestured for her to take a seat in the stuffed chair opposite her, and Alexandra did.

The woman studied her a moment, and Alexandra had the horrible thought that maybe she had done something wrong. Maybe Maximilian's mother didn't want her to attend his funeral after all. Then Ms. King said, “You know that Aurors and Inquisitors will be plentiful at the ceremony. Whether you see them or not, they'll be watching you – all of us.”

Alexandra nodded. “I figured.” She hesitated. “You don't think... he'll come, do you?” Even disguised with Polyjuice Potion, she thought it would be a bad idea for her father to show up.

“I doubt it. I think he will be watching, one way or another. But no, I don't expect he'll appear.” Ms. King was still looking at her in a way Alexandra couldn't decipher. Then she opened a tiny drawer in the table in front of her. “I received... a delivery, very early this morning. For you.” She withdrew from the drawer a glass vial.

“A delivery?” Alexandra's forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“There was no note, or explanation, only your name. But I am fairly certain what this is, and who sent it.”

Alexandra looked at the vial Ms. King held in her hand. It was filled with a viscous, silvery liquid, much like what she had seen in the Pensieve the night before.

“You were interrogated, by the Office of Special Inquisitions,” Ms. King stated. “And they determined that your father Obliviated you.”

Alexandra nodded, licking her lips nervously.

“I think,” Ms. King said slowly, “that he did not.”

Alexandra's eyes were drawn to the shimmering liquid in the vial. “I don't understand.”

“I think that he took your memories from you, so that the Inquisitors couldn't pry them out of you. But he didn't destroy them. He hid them away, until such time as they could be returned to you.”

Alexandra's eyes widened. Now she was almost hypnotized by what was swirling in the vial that the older witch held.

“He must not be expecting you to be interrogated again, at least by means of Legilimency or Veritaserum,” Ms. King went on. “Or else whatever it was he didn't want you to tell the Inquisitors will no longer make a difference. But all the same... it would probably be best not to let anyone know that your memories have been returned to you.”

Alexandra swallowed, and concentrated on stilling the roar of confusing thoughts in her head.

“Assuming that you want them returned, that is,” Ms. King added.

Alexandra's head snapped up. She finally broke her gaze away from the vial, and looked at Ms. King again.

“Of course I want them back!” she said hoarsely.

“Alexandra.” Ms. King's voice was very soft. “I assume that whatever is in here –” She held up the vial. “It involves Maximilian's death. You – may well have seen him die. Whatever happened, it might be... unpleasant.”

“Don't you want to know?” Alexandra asked.

Ms. King looked at the vial. “I thought about it,” she admitted. “I thought about using the Pensieve, first.” She shook her head. “You can, you know. You can use it to see what these memories are, and then decide whether you want to keep them –”

“I want them!” Alexandra declared vehemently. She paused, abashed at her sharp tone, but Ms. King was unfazed. Alexandra looked away. “They're my memories! Whatever happened, I have a right to them, and he had no right to take them from me! Whatever happened, it happened and I was there and I have to live with it. I want them!” She felt her eyes stinging with anger now.

Ms. King nodded. “Come here, then,” she said gently.

Alexandra rose from the chair, and moved to sit next to the large woman on the sofa, who unstoppered the vial, and dipped her wand into it.

“This won't hurt,” she promised. “But it will feel very strange.”

Sticky silver threads stretched from the end of her wand as she removed it from the vial, and then she pressed the tip against the younger witch's temple, and Alexandra gasped as memories poured into her head.