Remembrall

A/N: I'm so grateful to my wonderful beta, JaneAverage. And JKR still owns all you recognize.

Chapter 2: Remembrall

Emma rushed into school. She was late but would be damned before she would answer any of Roberta’s questions. Waking up alone, with bruises and a pounding head in one’s own hallway was not exactly an indicator of good mental health. Emma forced on a smile and, when asked, made up a lie about slipping in the shower. She had the feeling that Roberta didn’t buy it. She also had the powerful feeling that something not right had happened that morning. It wasn’t that she couldn’t remember, but rather she did not trust the veracity of her memories.

She knew she had seen two men, one very large and bulky, both wearing silver masks. They were pointing what appeared to be magic wands at her and yelling Latin or French phrases. They definitely were focused on her bracelet, which was worth a bundle. So why didn’t they leave with it? And, most importantly, did this all really happen? Was it a hallucination, or dissociation? She resolved not to tell anyone, and prayed that no one would notice her shaking hands and quavering voice, or the fact that she could no longer remove the bracelet from her wrist.

**************

Walden Macnair and Gregory Goyle, Sr. stood at the coffee bar in a bakery near Emma’s school, having followed her there after the attack. They, too, were visibly shaken.

“Macnair, what the bloody hell happened back there? I couldn’t touch the bint, my hands burned like fire when I made contact with her skin. Not one spell worked on her. We couldn’t cut the bracelet off her. Why the fuck not?”

“I have no idea, Gregory. She, or the bracelet, is obviously protected by powerful dark magic. I’ll wager if we kill her, the Horcrux will be destroyed.”

The two Death Eaters sat in stony silence. They felt their lives slipping away as they realized they could not complete their mission.

Finally, Goyle spoke. “I say this: let’s kidnap her and take her back to the Dark Lord. Let him figure out how to get the damned bracelet. We’ll be punished, but hopefully still alive after this all ends.”

“Fine, Gregory, fine. But we will have to gain her trust first and make it appear to be her decision. We cannot do anything against her will—the dark magic will not allow it. However, I have something to confess about that particular Muggle that may please you. I have a connection to her. She is the headmistress of a school for autistic children. My son’s school. Ian.”

“But . . . I thought the Dark Lord had you ‘take care’ of the boy. Said he was a stain on your pure blood.”

“Yes, well, I was willing to comply, but my wife had other ideas and she deceived and disobeyed me.”

“You’ve acted against the Dark Lord’s wishes?” Goyle asked, incredulously.

“Indirectly and regrettably, yes, by not controlling my wife’s behavior. She paid the ultimate price for her weakness, as you know,” Macnair replied casually, as if discussing the New York City weather. “But my connection to the Muggle is in our favor.”

“Quite.”

“I would, of course, be indebted to you for your secrecy on this matter, Gregory.”

“If we survive this, Macnair, I’ll take your secret to my grave.”

*************

Severus Snape slipped virtually unseen around the corner nearest Emma’s school. He had cast no Disillusionment Charm, yet he blended into the New York City neighborhood like a native. Tall, rangy, and wearing black head to toe, he adjusted his leather messenger bag and took in the lay of the land.

Dumbledore had tracked Ravenclaw’s bracelet to a purchase made at an auction house here, and Aurors from the US Ministry of Magic easily identified the purchaser. He and his two young sons had died in a cab crash, caused by an illegal Imperius Curse which had been cast on the cab driver. Snape felt a momentary twinge of sympathy at the children’s deaths; the Dark Lord’s depravity toward children was one of the main reasons Snape had turned to the Light.

Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, Snape audibly cursed the brilliant old hag, a distant cousin of Dumbledore, who had circumvented Voldemort’s magic and retrieved the bracelet from its hiding place. She had had no idea what it truly was, and had sold it immediately.

Dumbledore suspected the bracelet to be protected by Dark Magic, so it was Snape, with his relevant experience, who was sent—no, forced, he thought bitterly—to Muggle New York to get the bracelet before the Dark Lord did. The mission had been deemed too dangerous for Harry Potter to join, so Dumbledore reluctantly had involved his inner circle in the Horcrux hunt. Thank Merlin for small favors, Snape had thought at the time. No Death Eater revel could be worse than babysitting that arrogant prat Potter in New York.

Snape crossed over to the small patch of grass which passed for a park here and sat down on one of the benches. He wanted to observe the school, and the Muggle woman, before he decided on a course of action.

*******************

Today was Thursday, field trip day. They were going to the American Museum of Natural History on Central Park West. They would take the cross-town bus at the end of the block. “The subway is a bit too real-world for them,” Emma chuckled to herself.

It was a beautiful New York fall day: unseasonably warm, brightly sunny, just perfect . . . except for her morning, which she tried not to think about. In fact, it was fairly easy to block it out while at work, as her students demanded all her attention. Tonight will be difficult, probably another round of Pinot with a NyQuil chaser in order to sleep, she thought, before pushing it forcefully out of her mind.

The walk was energizing, the day was warming, and she absentmindedly rolled up the sleeves of her pink cotton button-down shirt. Rick’s shirt. Comforting. They reached the corner and rehearsed bus procedures and etiquette with the students while they waited.

Snape couldn’t believe it. She had strutted right past him, flashing Rowena Ravenclaw’s bracelet for all the world to see. Clearly, she has no idea what she’s wearing on her wrist, he thought.

At first he had noticed her, not the bracelet. He was, after all, a man. And she was a woman: attractive, in her late thirties, of average height, with a distinctly feminine figure and shoulder-length dark blonde hair in a simple braid. Smiling as she shepherded her charges down the street; laughing, encouraging, holding hands with a nervous student as they walked. The teaching inverse of Professor Snape, he snidely thought.

Snape bent down to gather his bag and stayed down. With his excellent peripheral vision he had noticed Macnair and Goyle on the other side of the busy street, heading toward the Muggle. He swore softly to himself and cast a Disillusionment Charm. Unseen, he strode along the border of the park to within earshot of the group.