"I watched her open up her phone and write out the text," Sasha insisted as he started to take a seat on one of the couches in the study.  He knew he was being impolite, jumping from the simple pleasantries of welcoming a visitor to his home to that random, out of the blue, insistence, but he couldn't help it.  He felt the need to express the urgency behind the situation.  "It had to have been the pentral - it had taken over her once before.  I talked with it.  It must have-" 

He shook his head and winced as he remembered his manners.  Straightening up to his feet, again, Sasha offered Jonas Trevelyan an apologetic grimace before dutifully extending the standard offer of basic hospitality.  The man had, after all, agreed to come to see Sasha on short notice.  "I'm sorry, I should have asked first.  Can I get you anything?  Water, coffee, beer, tea?" he offered. 

When Sasha had initially reached out to Jonas, it had been with the intent of finding a time to talk to the auror at his convenience.  Shortly after parting ways with Abby after their sometimes-wonderful, sometimes-emotionally-exhausting date the previous day, Sasha had reached out to Jonas through Facebook.  He knew better than to trust such a sensitive topic as magic and pentrals to the supposed security of social media private messaging, so he'd kept the message vague.  'I'd like to find a time to talk to you about Abby's text.'  Those words alone, should have conveyed all the information the auror needed.  But, when Jonas had responded by saying he'd never received a text, the nature of the meeting had changed drastically. 

Sasha had insisted on meeting with Jonas as soon as possible. 

Sasha was terrified.  He didn't know what to make of this whole pentral thing and he'd spent most of the night pinpointing all the reasons why this wasn't like past events and why those past events didn't predict an invariably grim repeat of past outcomes.  He wasn't sure he could bear the thought and he was using every ounce of logic available to prove it wasn't possible.  The results of that unsettling brainstorming session were listed on one of the handful of dry erase boards scattered around the office, sandwiched between lists of magical creatures, chemical and mathematical equations. 

And, in the end, he'd needed more - some outside reassurance, at the very least, and some guidance on what he should, or could be doing.  The pool of people who knew and, therefore, he could talk to was rather small: Raine, Virgil and Jonas.  The former two were peers and he considered them friends, but talking to them would require explaining more than he was sure he was comfortable with.  That left Jonas - a man he had only interacted with in passing since the night of Ava Grosvenor's death. 

And here he was, unexpectedly spending his Thursday in the study of a manor that probably cost ten times the mortgage on their little townhouse in Hammersmith.  If it hadn't been for the Muggle touches here and there -- electric lights, a television -- it would have reminded Jonas far too much of the opulent home of Sasha's onetime mentor.[1]  He'd heard neither hide nor hair of Kronos Malvivicus and his hairless, appendage-amorous cats for going on three years, and he was quite content to leave it at that.  If Sasha was emulating the tastes of his once-kidnapper, hopefully it was just by happenstance.   

He'd been about to decline the offered drink, but then decided otherwise.  Sasha had been anxious since the moment he'd arrived -- the kid wasn't very good at hiding his emotions.  He clearly wanted to talk or he wouldn't have reached out to the Auror, but Jonas knew people well enough not to take that willingness for granted.  It would be far harder for the young man to change his mind and try to kick him out if they were settled in with refreshments.

"Tea'd be grand, thanks," he replied cheerfully.  It required the most elaborate preparation of the drink options that Sasha had put forward, and the ritual of preparing it would likely give the lad something else to focus on.  "As long as it's not any trouble." 

He leaned back in his chair, forehead creasing as he considered.  When Abby had sent him a friend request on Facebook the day before[2], Jonas had obligingly added her back -- it was the first time his magical and mundane worlds had crossed in exactly this manner.  He hadn't realized that he was opening himself up to a social media deluge.  Sasha had reached out to him only a few short hours later, concerned about a mysterious text that Abby was supposed to have sent him.  When Jonas hadn't understood the context, the boy had instantly requested to meet. 

He was quickly starting to realize why.

"Let's back up a step," Jonas said, frowning as he regarded Sasha.  "What do you mean, you talked with the pentral?  What exactly happened?"

1.	November 14, 2008 - Take a Little Walk to the Edge of Town
2.	August 31, 2011 - Confirm or Deny?

It was no secret among Sasha's peers that he was practically useless in the kitchen but, at least, a simple cup of tea wasn't beyond his capabilities.  One could argue that making a good cup of tea was still beyond his culinary skill level so, as long as the Auror didn't have high expectations, Sasha could fulfill his host-ly duties.  Thanks in part to modern muggle technology, which specialized in contraptions that compensated for an individual's lack of skill. 

"Of course it's no trouble," Sasha offered with a half-grin, trying to ignore the feeling of urgency that made him feel impatient.  He crossed the room to the small wet bar and pulled a pair of mugs out of the cupboard above the little sink along with two little plastic k-cups.  The little container of English Breakfast tea went in first and Sasha closed the lid.  He turned back to Jonas as the keurig started to produce a thin trickle of water, well aware the house elf would chide him for his sacrilegious treatment of tea.  What the elf didn't know wouldn't hurt her. 

If Sasha had been hoping meeting with Jonas would, at the very least, provide some reassurance, the frown on the Auror's face was doing little to reassure him.  Sasha shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the counter behind him, shaking his head, slightly.  "I mean, when I thought I was talking to Abby, it was obvious it wasn't her.  It was someone else - she explained all about the pentrals afterwards, but-"  He brought the mug of tea, along with a tray of drink fixings, to the coffee table before returning to prepare his own cup of coffee. 

"We had taken a picnic to the university gardens at Cambridge and she'd stepped away to find a bin.  She was gone longer than I'd expected and when she returned, she wasn't ... acting normal."  He scowled and shook his head as he took his drink from the keurig and took a seat on one of the couches.  The changes had been subtle, especially given goofiness and amusing antics were well within the realm of Abby's usual behavior.  He'd had a hard time putting his finger on them when they'd been happening; it was even harder to repackage them in a way that would make someone else understand. 

"She threw away her phone," he offered, going straight for what felt like the most damming evidence.  At least, in his mind.  "Then, she started looking for a wand, as if she'd misplaced it.  The next moment, she was more like herself, but she was confused - disoriented and nervous.  That wasn't the only time I didn't think I was talking to Abby, but it seemed to get harder to tell."  That really worried him - along with many other aspects.

"I tried to talk her into having someone take a look at her.  I watched her pull out her phone and write out the text.  If you didn't get the text, She must have stopped Abby from sending it.  I'm sure of it."

"Cheers," Jonas had said as he'd taken the tea.

He'd listened silently as Sasha had begun to speak, sipping from his mug.  The first question that had bubbled up in his mind was how the teen knew about pentrals to begin with; Solomon Carstairs had been practically religious about keeping that particular word out of the papers.  But before long, he had his answer.  It seemed that the obvious explanation was the correct one:  Abby had told her friend.

That didn't particularly bother Jonas, as often the Ministry's cloak-and-dagger secrecy measures seemed a bit much.  But it was something to potentially file away. 

The rest of Sasha's story -- Abby stepping away, then acting abnormal and throwing away her phone -- was more concerning.  The pentrals seemed to affect each victim differently.  Of all those inflicted, Abby seemed to be one of the highest functioning.  There hadn't seemed to be a reason to sentence her to St. Mungo's or put her under observation for her safety, as many of the others had been.  The only time he'd heard her speak of anything like 'Flower Girl' taking over had been when she'd first been possessed and had escaped from the Lilly Lakehouse through the floo.

Equally disturbing was the fact that the pentral's dominance seemed to have continued when Sasha had pressed Abby to reach out for help.  If Sasha's observations were correct, had the possession been happening more frequently, and they simply hadn't noticed?

"Reckon that'd be a good question for Abby," he said, his forehead creasing.  There was always a chance there was another explanation -- but Sasha's instincts were probably good ones.  The boy had been around enough strangeness in his life.

Jonas paused, taking a sip of tea as he considered.  If Sasha knew Abby well enough to take a picnic with her, then he was probably a good enough judge of how she normally acted.  He was likely a better judge than even the Aurors, who didn't spend any time with her in social situations and could possibly be taken in by a skilled enough mimic.

"You mentioned that that didn't seem to be the only time when you didn't think you were talking to Abby," he remarked, eyebrows raising.  "Were there specific instances when you thought she wasn't acting normal?  Did something else happen before yesterday?"

Sitting on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees, Sasha cradled the warm ceramic between his fingers and watched the toffee-colored foam swirl and dissipate.  This had been part of his original motivations for reaching out to Jonas - he didn't know what his role should be or what he should be doing.  Every option seemed equally bad and good at the same time. 

"Should I have asked?" he shrugged and looked up at Jonas.  The thought had crossed his mind, but he'd dismissed it for a variety of reasons.  "I mean, should that be my role - is that what I should be doing?"  The portion of last night that hadn't been spent brainstorming differences between this and past situations had been spent trying to figure out what he should be doing. 

He wanted to help, of course, and he needed to know he was doing something but, he remembered vividly, that when he'd been in a similar position, sometimes he'd just needed a friend who wasn't always questioning his motives or frame of mind. 

But, that hadn't been the only reason he'd been hesitant to ask and that played into Jonas' second question.  "Those were the only times it was obvious and I'm certain it wasn't Abby.  There were other times I was suspicious and - it seemed like the pentral would ... could ... slip in and out of the forefront with almost no indication.  That's the only time I've noticed her not being her.  There have been other oddities, like sometimes she seems cold.  But - I don't know." 

He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.  "I thought about asking, but I realized there was no way to know if I was asking Abby.  Or, the pentral.  And ... I wasn't sure ... how much to trust it.  I think she does, but I don't know if that's because she actually trusts it or because she has to." 

By the time he knew enough to understand what was going on, he had realized he couldn't guarantee it would be Abby answering and not the pentral.  "And, do we know what they can do?  I mean, if she ... it ... gets suspicious, do we know for sure it won't-"  he blinked and shook his head, looking back down at his coffee. 

Should I have asked?  Should that be my role?

Ah.  So that was the other part of this hastily-arranged meeting.  A few years before, Jonas might not have picked up on the nuance of the boy's question, but nearly a decade and a half of fatherhood had brought with it an awareness of the younger generation that he hadn't had before.  Sasha had asked to talk with him not just out of concern for his friend, but because he was concerned that he didn't know how to act when something did happen.

But the challenging part of the situation was that Jonas couldn't give him an exact answer. 

It was hard, growing up.  He could remember the exact moment when he'd had this same realization, sitting across from Rufus Scrimgeour, being told that his best friend had been murdered.  Those that he had perceived as adults didn't know any better than he had.  Every so often, he saw flashes of that same knowledge in Gwenna.  His daughter knew all too well that the adults in her life weren't perfect; that they made mistakes.

Whatever he thought about the situation with Abby, somehow giving Sasha unquestioning reassurance didn't seem like the right thing to do.

"No," he said, with a shake of his head.  "We don't know entirely what they can do, although we're starting to figure out more.  The pentrals seem to affect everyone differently -- Abby's older sister Aileen has been having a hard time sorting out memories about both of her lives, for instance.  Abby's seemed much more herself than the others, even with this 'Flower Girl' in her head."

This all begged the question, of course, as to if that were really true.  He'd accepted that Abby was herself because she seemed to be acting like herself.  But here was one of her good friends, saying that she wasn't.

"I think your instincts are right on all of this, Sasha," he said, meeting the boy's gaze.  "I reckon we're going to need to learn more before we can say for certain what it can or can't do.  Would you be comfortable keeping track if you notice something amiss?  Jot a note down with the time and what happened, so we can see if we start to notice any patterns."

An answer to his main query was, frustratingly, absent and for a few minutes that frustration was scrawled across his face for anyone to read.  It was a frustration backed by the helplessness this whole scenario brought to the fore, but it was finding an easy target in Jonas. 

"That's it?" he asked, lifting his empty hand slightly in a beseeching gesture.  "There has to be something.  Please - I mean.  Even-"  He had to understand.  Right?  This wasn't just some childish search for blind reassurance - at least, it was easy to convince himself that wasn't the case.  He'd seen enough, been exposed to enough in the past few years to know that was impossible.  There just had to be something he could do to avoid repeating the same mistakes he'd made in the past. 

Slowly, he shook his head and looked back down at the steaming coffee.  "I failed Ava and I can't do anything to change that."  He'd tried; in his guilt and pain, he'd learned necromancy and had come within minutes of bringing her back in some foolish and misguided attempt to apologize.  "I just need to know I'm not making the same mistakes, again.  That this will be different." 

Unfortunately, nothing Jonas said was offering much in the way of comfort or reassurance other then, perhaps, to reinforce Sasha had made the right decision by not directly asking Abby any sensitive questions about he pentral.  It wasn't much but, fortunately, it was something.  At least, Jonas felt like his gut instincts were leading him in the right direction. 

Without hesitation, Sasha nodded his head.  "I can do that," he admitted.  "I'll let you know straight away when I notice things.  Do you think ... part of me feels like I should tell her; I hate the feeling of ... spying on her without her knowing.  But, I don't think it's a good idea that the pentral knows I'm doing it.  Unless we know it won't ... do something to protect itself.  I mean, it's a parasite that can be aware of us trying to get rid of it.  I think I have to assume it can see and hear everything I ... we do."  Which, admittedly, "-that's kind of awkward."