Takes One to Know One

Epilogue: So We Beat On, Boats Against the Current

Rachel Gunther, Salem's Charms instructor and Chris's partner in creative planning, was duly summoned from bed to deal with the teens' memory blockage, for so it proved to be. Two awkward days sufficed for studying, then breaking, the spells placed upon them; the five were released to their parents for the remainder of the long vacation.

Marisa didn't see them go. She spent her first day back questioning the stacked captives with Chris, the second hiding from the world. A note to Dumbledore, written while she waited for the Sue potion's visible effects to fade, reassured him of her continued health without exposing her residual suspicion. One-time saviours of wizarding Britain were likely to possess unseen depths, and Marisa hadn't learned enough about the Sue affair's origins to excuse him from Janus-faced collusion.

A longer missive to wizarding Britain's Daily Prophet warned the paper's editors not to provoke international incidents for the sake of generating copy. Though captive number one had remained wary of divulging information, his colleagues had spoken without regard for discretion, rather more freely than Marisa's lack of power could justify. It seemed the affair had been an elaborate ploy: "take the pretty, cloying little Yanks and feed them to the Ministry," the third captive had said, "the muggle Ministry. That'll show them that Dumbledore's a weak fool--invites all sorts into Hogwarts but can't keep anyone safe. Useless, the lot of 'em." In the end Marisa wasn't sure which "them" he meant. She tucked away the muggle keys, though.

That Feld's assignment and Chris and Rachel's planning had enabled a similar ploy in response was quite beside the point, Marisa decided as she assembled a discreet report for Feld, for her time as Sue had caused the plot to unravel. Surely that was a good thing? Hard to say, now, how permanent an effect she'd had. She wasn't holding her breath. Whoever had devised the plot had the wit to spread responsibility across too many jurisdictions for Marisa, or indeed legitimate authorities, to investigate readily--and she'd been paid only to fetch the kids. Delving more deeply herself would entail disclosing her unauthorized interrogations, Chris's potions.... Feld and his counterparts at Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and elsewhere would just have to take better care.

Oh dear. If Dumbledore were part of the plan--if, in fact, he had originated it-- shutting things down entirely would be impossible, given the predilection of Stateside students for Seeing Where It All Began and snogging people with accents. Quis custodes ipsos custodiet, and all that. Well, Marisa had practised unwanted feelings and reactions for a few days; she could just press on a bit longer, keep from worrying over students she couldn't help. Recalling the potential for abuses of power was a reason to keep historians around, but it also lent one a cynical, silent tolerance.

She carried the carefully edited report to Feld that afternoon and watched his hands as he skimmed it. Twitch, twitch.

"How did you come up with all this?" he inquired. "Utter crap. No supporting evidence." His hands halted atop the pile, straightened the uppermost sheet. Twitch.

Marisa laughed. "You of all people have to ask? Divining information from a vacuum is one of my Sue powers. Perhaps my next task should be to accumulate a file on Salem's dealings as well. Good-bye, Headmaster."

"But-- Marisa!"

The office door swung shut.