The Yearbook

Chapter 9: The Yearbook

As the days went by, my cold faded into minor sniffles, and my heart began to heal as well. At the Burrow, everything was ordinary and yet extraordinary at the same time. Perhaps my sense of astonishment was becoming dulled by the constant parade of new and different experiences. Perhaps when I returned to my Muggle existence, all this would seem like a bizarre dream. But one thing I knew for certain: I would never take anything at face value again.

Meanwhile, I was getting nowhere in my personal dilemma. One minute, I couldn't imagine closing the door on Remus Lupin. The next, I was ready to pack it up and fly back to the States. After three days of running in mental circles, I finally convinced Molly Weasley that she could be a sounding board without being required to give me advice.

"Are there many witches or wizards who are married to Muggles?" Sitting at the kitchen table, I watched as she set a lump of dough to magically kneading itself.

"Heavens, yes," she replied at once. "Quite a few -- which, of course, is partially what the fuss is all about these days."

That surprised me. "Then it's not a rarity?"

"Not at all. The wizarding race would probably have died out if we hadn't married Muggles along the way."

I thought about that. "If I were to marry Remus -- which is a moot point, since we hadn't gotten around to talking about marriage yet -- would I have to leave the Muggle world?"

Molly, who had just picked up a spoon to stir a bubbling pot on the stove, turned to look at me in astonishment. "Gracious, no! Why would you need to do that?"

"I don't know. It seems like wizards try to avoid the Muggle world, for the most part. I thought perhaps you were supposed to stay put in one place or another."

"We all live in one world, Kailin," she said, stirring vigorously. "The difference is that we can see the Muggle portion, but Muggles can't see ours."

"Arthur finds me fascinating," I interjected, smiling. The man had cornered me more than once over the past few days. The last time, he'd wanted to know all about rollerblading.

"I knew he would, of course. Has an insatiable curiosity about Muggles, my Arthur does. Unfortunately, many at the Ministry take a rather dim view of his hobby."

"Is it considered in bad taste for wizards to marry Muggles?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation back onto track.

"Again, some would say it is." Molly reached for the salt shaker and sprinkled a liberal amount on top of the bubbling stew. "But isn't that true of Muggles also? Don't some Muggles take offense if their children marry into 'the wrong sort', whatever 'the wrong sort' may be?"

"Yes. That's very true."

"People tend to congregate with their own kind, Kailin. It's human nature, I think. But for the most part, I've always heard that wizarding mixed marriages are managed easily enough."

"You said 'for the most part'," I pointed out.

"Well, there are always cases where expectations aren't made clear prior to the marriage."

I was silent for a moment. "Remus doesn't act as though he's unfamiliar with the Muggle world. Or put off by it either, for that matter."

"Yes, well, thanks to the way he's been treated by most wizards over the years, I believe he's learned to adapt to just about anything." Molly's head snapped up. She looked obviously flustered. "Oh, dear, that didn't come out right, did it? I meant that he's had to survive as best he could in both worlds."

"But the Ministry supplies him with housing, and that potion," I began.

"The Ministry does as little as they can get away with." Molly slammed a lid down onto the pot with somewhat noticeable vigor. "I'm not supposed to say anything bad about them of course, since Arthur works there. But the fact is, they hand out Wolfsbane and ratty accommodations and a pittance to live on and claim that they're looking out for the disadvantaged. If they were truly looking out for the disadvantaged, they'd see to it that werewolves were treated no differently from anybody else.

"Besides, the Wolfsbane solves a myriad of problems for them, don't you know. No need to worry anymore about rampaging werewolves once a month. It's not that they feel any pity for the poor werewolves."

"How long has Wolfsbane been available?" I asked curiously. "Remus said it hadn't been that long."

"I think about five years or so. We didn't know Remus then, so I didn't pay the news much mind, other than to think it was about time that somebody found a solution." Molly placed a lid on the stewpot and sat down at the kitchen table next to me. "As for the housing, that's a recent development."

"Really?"

"Of course. Take all your problem citizens and put them in one place where you can keep track of them."

"A ghetto," I said dully. I was beginning to think less and less of the wizarding world by the minute. "What did Remus do before that?"

"Lived rather hand to mouth, I believe. Other than the year he spent at Hogwarts, that is."

I sat outside that night, staring up at the stars and wondering what I should do. The bottom line, I decided, was that I loved Remus Lupin. And certainly I could live with the fact that he was a wizard, as long as my being a Muggle didn't matter to him. The werewolf part -- considering that was what had plunged me into this soul searching in the first place -- seemed to matter less and less. To hear Molly tell it, his condition was a minor inconvenience: Remus drank a potion, shut himself up in a room for the night, and spent the next day sleeping it off. I doubted that Remus himself took it quite so lightly, but when Molly put it that way, there seemed little to make a fuss about.

Instead, it was the consequences of marrying a werewolf that set me to thinking.

To commit my life to Remus meant giving up what most American girls dreamed of: the husband with the big salary, the large house in the suburbs, staying at home with the three adorable kids. But had that ever really been my dream? I reminded myself that I had done absolutely nothing in the way of settling down so far. The travel nursing, with its inherently gypsy lifestyle, was my attempt to search for something -- but for what? Was this it?

Loving Remus Lupin meant staying in Britain, finding a job, and supporting the two of us indefinitely. To say 'yes' seemed an incredible leap of faith, even for someone like me.

I fell asleep still debating the issue in my head and awoke the next morning no closer to an answer than I'd ever been. After breakfast, I wandered around the Burrow looking for something to do. I was tired of reading magic textbooks, bored with Ron's back issues of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle, and annoyed by my own lack of emotional progress. As a result, I found myself looking through the adult Weasleys' hodgepodge of books for some optional reading material.

There were several books of magical cures and remedies that I would have given my eye teeth to show to my old nursing instructors, a tome on home repair which relied less on carpentry than on magic spells, and a well-thumbed copy of Parenting Skills for the Modern Witch and Wizard: Easier Than You Think, by what was apparently the wizarding version of Dr. Spock. It was then that I found the Hogwarts yearbooks.

There were a half-dozen, which seemed to be from Arthur and Molly's era. I'd spent enough time around the Potter-Weasley-Granger trio by now to know all about the four houses at Hogwarts, and I easily located pictures of an impossibly young Arthur Weasley and sweetly coquettish Molly Prewett in the Gryffindor section. They waved at me cheerfully from their respective pages, blissfully unaware that seven children lay in their future. I caught myself wondering what they would have done, had they known that.

A few obviously newer yearbooks lay beneath, probably from the older Weasley boys' years at school. Sure enough: Charlie the Dragon Slayer and Bill the Curse-Breaker were there. And on the very bottom of the stack sat one more yearbook.

This one was much older than the others, and I couldn't quite place the decade. Twenties? Too early, I decided, glancing briefly at the hairstyles. Thirties? Forties? Must have been one of Arthur or Molly's parents, I decided. The Weasleys were one of those wizarding families where aunts, uncles, cousins and all variety of relatives in between had gone to the same school.

I was thumbing pages with disinterest since no one I knew would be in it, - and then something caught my eye. I didn't know whether it was the picture or the name, but an odd shiver went down my spine, and my hand faltered. Frowning, I leafed back a page or two, trying to find whatever had grabbed my attention.

I turned one more page.

And froze.

Time crawled to a stop. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, and it seemed so loud that I wasn't sure if I was merely feeling it or actually hearing it. What I was seeing was incredible, so incredible that I couldn't pull my eyes away -- couldn't blink, for that matter.

My hands shook to the point that when I tried to stand, I nearly dropped the book. I gasped aloud, terrified that if I lost the page, I'd never find it again. And I had to find it. I needed to show it to Molly. Now.

"Molly? Molly!'" My legs seemed like lead as I raced through the Burrow, looking for her. Where was she? I had to find her. Had to.

"Kailin?" Molly came racing down a flight of stairs from the attic, panting for breath and a fearful expression on her face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

I thrust the yearbook at her. "Look," I croaked, breathless myself.

A fleeting expression of relief that her family and home were intact passed over her face, followed by one of total bewilderment. Molly took the book from me and scanned the page. "What am I looking for?"

I was already thrusting my finger at the picture in the middle: Marva McClain, Hufflepuff, Class of 1941.

"It's Marvy!" I cried. "It's my grandmother Marvy. Marva McClain!"

"Marva McClain," she repeated. "Your grandmother? Are you sure?"

What a ridiculous question. "Of course! I know my own grandmother, Molly!"

"But this means that your grandmother was a witch."

I knew it did, but hearing her say it made it seem all the more improbable.

"Is that possible? Do witches ever stop being witches and live as Muggles? She never said anything about magic, or did any sort of magic, and I was almost closer to Marvy than I was to my own mother!" I blurted. "She would have told me, wouldn't she?"

"No one stops being a witch or wizard, Kailin. It's what you are. But I'm sure that some live as Muggles or just neglect their skills to the point where they seldom think to use them anymore." Molly looked thoughtful. "Imagine that! Your grandmother went to Hogwarts! You have a witch in your family tree. I wonder if there are any others."

I wondered, too. My family, like all families, had its share of high achievers and downright embarrassments, but as far as I knew, every last one of them was as Muggle as they come. But then, I'd thought that of Marvy, too.

"Is there a pay phone in the village?"

"Of course," she said, then added proudly, "I used it once."

"Where is it?" I started for the stairs and began taking them two at a time.

"By the butcher shop, I believe. Why?"

"This is completely, utterly incomprehensible, Molly. I have to talk to my grandfather about it! I just have to!" I rushed into my room and started upending my belongings, looking for my purse.

"Kailin, wait! You can't do that!" Molly followed me into the room.

I stopped my searching to look up at her and my heart contracted painfully. If there some sort of silly wizarding law prohibiting discussion of witchcraft with Muggle family members, I was going to scream. "Why not?" I demanded angrily.

"Because it's only nine in the morning. I don't know where in America your grandfather lives, but I suspect it'll still be rather early for a felly tone call."

Sweet, silly relief swept over me, and I sank onto my bed, overcome by laughter.

We headed for Ottery St. Catchpole just after lunch. I was back to peppering Molly with questions as we walked. Were wizards who 'went Muggle,' in my words, ostracized? Did a wizarding couple always produce wizarding offspring? What were the odds for a wizard and a Muggle? I think Molly was frankly glad when we arrived in town so I'd find the phone and talk to someone else for a change.

When we reached the pay phone, Molly stood politely outside the booth waiting and killing time by studying the Muggles while I fumbled with my wallet, the phone card, and the calling instructions. In my nervousness I misdialled at least twice. Then, finally, I stood fidgeting while Billy Mitchell's phone rang in Rockford, Illinois.

"Hello?"

I recognized the voice with a dual rush of relief and homesickness.

"Grandpa? It's me, Kailin."

"Kailin?" Billy chuckled. "Hiya, honey, how are you? How are things in merry old England?"

"Just fine, Grandpa. I'm having a great time. Wish you were here."

"When are you coming home?" he wanted to know.

"I don't know yet. Listen, Grandpa, I need to ask you a few questions. Is this a good time?"

"Good a time as any. I'm an old geezer, remember? Nothing better to do."

I smiled at the gentle teasing. "You're not old, Grandpa."

"Well, I'm sure as heck not young. What do you want, sweetie?"

I laughed, then sobered quickly. "I need to ask you about Gran Marva's background."

"Her background," he echoed. "You mean like where her family came from and all? I thought you looked them up already."

"No, it's something else I just discovered."

"Oh, you found out about all that witch stuff, didn't you?"

I'd been prepared to believe that Marvy had never told anyone about her abilities, which would have explained why I'd never heard about it until now. Billy's offhanded question startled me.

"You knew?" I gasped.

"Sure, I knew. She was always real upfront with me about it. How did you find out?"

"I -- I made some friends who are witches and wizards," I stammered. "They went to the same school where Marvy went. I found her picture in an old yearbook."

"You don't say. How about that!" Grandpa enthused. "Are you upset about that, Kailey honey? Because it's not that nasty devil worship stuff you hear about."

"No, no," I assured him, "I know it's not. It's just that, well, why didn't she tell me?"

There was brief silence, then: "Well, she just didn't think it was important, I guess."

"Not important?" I was dumbfounded. "This is just so amazing! So incredible! How can it not be important?"

Another brief silence. "Not everybody sees it that way, honey. The notion that someone's a witch doesn't play too good in farm country, if you know what I mean."

I knew. I couldn't imagine Marvy revealing all to the Rotary. "So she never did magic after she married you?"

Grandpa Billy laughed. "No, I wouldn't go that far. She used to love cleaning off the dinner table with that wand of hers. She --"

"Do you still have the wand?" I interrupted eagerly.

"No, I believe she lost it years ago. Never used it anyway, once the kids came along."

Which probably explained why I'd never heard any family rumors about it. "Why did she go into Muggle nursing?" I asked. "The wizards have Healers. Why didn't she do that instead?"

"For Pete's sake," he chortled. "Muggle! I haven't heard that word in years. Well, Marvy was real interested in politics and in the war. It was going on when she graduated from that Warthog School --"

"Hogwarts," I corrected promptly.

"Oh, yeah. Hogwarts. Anyway, she wanted to do her part in the war. Guess the wizards weren't taking an active enough role for her, so that's when she signed up for regular nursing school. Ended up with me as a patient one day. She used to say I was the meanest patient she ever had. We'd only known each other for a month when we got married. She ever tell you that?"

"I just knew it was a brief courtship."

"'Brief' is the word, all right. We fell smack dab in love like we were hit by a ton of bricks. 'Course then the army had to go and mess us up, tell me I'm shipping back to the States in less than a week... So I asked Marva to marry me, figuring she'd turn me down cold since we hadn't known each other that long."

"And she didn't," I finished for him. I knew this part of the story well.

"Nope, she didn't. Got married three days later and had fifty years of wedded bliss until last fall."

"Did she ever miss doing magic?"

"I don't know," Grandpa said in a strained voice, and from three thousand miles away I could sense that the memories were becoming too overwhelming. It was only nine months since Marvy had died, and if my loss was painful, his was acutely so. "I asked her that once. She told me..."

"Yes?" A lump formed in my throat as I waited for him to finish.

"She told me that she didn't really miss it. Said she'd found something better." His voice cracked.

Something better. His words struck me as hard as if I'd been slapped in the face. The similarities between my situation and my grandparents' situation were striking: utterly convinced of love despite brief courtships, giving up one world for another. What were the odds that while in Britain I would run into a wizard and fall in love? That his friends would have a yearbook which proved my grandmother had been a witch? Was Marvy peering down from heaven even now, delighted that her last bit of magic had been to land me at King's Cross Station at the same time as Remus Lupin?

Out of nowhere, a memory surfaced: I was fourteen, and Marvy and I were baking cookies. I was bemoaning some burning adolescent issue while she patiently listened to my ranting. I have no idea now what I was complaining about, but I would always remember her words: "People worry so much about how long they're going to live, Kailin. They should be worried about how wide they're going to live."

I knew at that moment that I wanted to live wide enough to include Remus Lupin in my life.

Clutching the receiver with both hands, I pressed my forehead against the cool glass wall of the phone booth, my shoulders shaking with sobs. While I cried in Britain for Remus, Grandpa Billy cried in America for Marvy. Outside, Molly Weasley saw me and tapped at the glass in concern, silently mouthing a question to see if I was all right. I took a deep breath and waved her off.

"Grandpa," I managed finally, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine, honey. It just hits me kind of hard some days," Billy said shakily.

We talked for a few minutes longer before I reluctantly rang off, although not until I told Grandpa that I was in love with a wizard. I didn't mention the rest of it, because it simply wasn't the right time and, quite frankly, right now it didn't matter.

"What happened?" Molly regarded me with motherly concern as I stepped out of the phone booth.

I gave her a blow-by-blow replay of the phone call as we walked home to the Burrow and finished by telling her that I had my answer in regards to my own dilemma. I needed to talk to Remus, I told her pleadingly. Was there a way? Could she contact him, or could Arthur contact him from work? A message wouldn't do; owls were too slow for what I needed. Could I speak with him in person somehow? Molly promised to do her best, and when we reached the Burrow, I was treated to the bizarre sight of my hostess with her head stuck in the fireplace, talking animatedly to her husband.

"He thinks he knows where to find him," she reported to me. "How about if we invite him to supper?"

"That would be wonderful," I said fervently.

Arthur promised to report back as soon as he could. Still, it was nearly an hour before he reappeared in the fireplace.

Remus would be dining with us.

Author's Note: I was quite sad when one of my British readers informed me that British schools don't have yearbooks like we have in America. Therefore, I've used the author's prerogative of altering customs in the British school system. And since the story is AU anyway...