Tuesday, January 17
11:03 AM
Level Two, Ministry of Magic

It worked like clockwork, this Ministry.  It hadn't taken Raizel long to find the red telephone booth that Jonas Trevelyan had mentioned; it had smelled brightly of cleaning magic, as if someone had recently spent a good long while giving it a thorough scrubbing, and she'd spelled out M-A-G-I-C on the phone dial as soon as the door had closed.  Like clockwork, it had descended on cue, and like clockwork, she'd emerged into the enormous Ministry lobby, where she'd fallen in line to have her wand checked at the Welcome desk.

Trevelyan had come to find her soon afterwards, clad in the Auror Office's bright crimson robes that clashed so vividly with his ginger-colored hair.  He'd taken her up to the second floor, although the levels in this strange Ministry were labeled in reverse.  It was strange to see him dressed so officially, and although he was as cheerful as always, Raizel could see the strain in the wizard's face.

She'd originally meant to follow up on their conversation[1] the week before, just after the full moon.  But after she'd seen the headlines in the Daily Prophet on Wednesday, Raizel hadn't been surprised when Jonas had sent an owl asking her to delay her visit.  She hadn't meant to stay in London so long, but it was easy to come up with excuses to occupy herself at the bank, and she was curious enough about her old school mate to weather the cold London winter for just a little longer.  It had been over a decade since she'd last seen Savvina Katopodis, and reunions with fellow Beit Gadded graduates in this far-flung place were rare enough that she could spare a few more days.

The halls of the floor devoted to Magical Law Enforcement were still so thick with tension that she could practically taste it in the air as they stepped off the lift.  Raizel let her gaze slide curiously over the stern-looking witches and wizards that they passed in the hallway, each one headed briskly to their next task. 

"In here," Trevelyan said, as he opened the door into a small room.  Raizel looked inside apprehensively.  There was a table and two wooden chairs, one positioned on either side.  The chair closest to the door had some sort of manacles attached to the arms, as if ready to secure a prisoner's wrists in place.

The silent signs of authority made her uncomfortable, but she wasn't about to show it, so she flounced past him into the room. 

"You'll bring her here?" she asked, looking about curiously.

"I'll tell the Hitwizards to fetch her," Trevelyan said, and gave her a tired smile.  "Ask them to send me word once you're done and I'll show you back out again, yeah?"

Raizel had stopped alongside the table, where she'd paused to study the chair clearly meant for a prisoner. 

"Yeh, of course," she said, looking up to flash him a smile.  That was the unspoken agreement here, she knew; he'd gotten her inside to see Savvina, and if she learned anything that might be helpful to the Ministry, she was expected to share it in return.  She'd consider sharing it, at least -- but Trevelyan knew that.  After everything that had happened two years ago, Raizel trusted him enough that she didn't think he'd twist her arm if she held anything back.

"Cheers," said the Auror, giving her a friendly salute.  And then he was off, leaving her all alone in this small, barren room meant for visiting with a prisoner.

1.	January 7, 2012 - Class Reunion

Savvina had been in custody for more than a month now. A lunar cycle had turned over. It was both welcome and unwelcome, the marking of time. Even though it was bracketed by shackles, her transformation in the Ministry had been safe and secure and warm. For the first time since she was twenty-four, Savvina didn't have to worry about anything. But as much of a conflicted relief that it was, every day was grey and bland and tense. She faced charges ranging from failing to register to a triple murder.

When the hitwizard came to fetch her, all he said was there was a visitor. Savvina had set down her book with a lift in her heart. It didn't matter who the visitor was. She didn't have any reason to think it was anyone other than someone from one of the many agencies looking into the crimes of the last two full moons. Maybe it was a healer - there'd been talk of memory recovery from a suspected Obliviation. Maybe her kind lawyer Harper Graves had brought someone to go over some detail of the case. Savvina had managed to make at least one ally in the Werewolf Wing, but she hadn't seen hide or hair of Bruce Ballentyne or Kurby Bagnold again.

She didn't possibly imagine it would be Raizel Cohen. The hitwizard said something, but Savvina didn't hear.

The door shut behind her and Savvina stared. She couldn't believe it. It was her. Blonde, soft, a presence that filled the room.

"My friend..." Savvina whispered in her native Greek. "My dear."

She hadn't seen Raizel since school. They'd been friendly, they'd had dreams, gods, they'd been so young. They were strangers now, but Raizel Cohen was the first old face she'd seen since she came to London.

Savvina embraced Raizel without saying anything else, tightly at first then gently.

"How are you here?" she asked into Raizel's shoulder. "How did you find me?"

The door opened, and in stepped a thin, gaunt female mage with dark curly hair and tired eyes.

Once upon a time, Raizel had known her well.  Savvina Katopodis had been two years ahead of her in Gibbor, in the same class as her older sister Eszter.  Savvina had left Jerusalem a year before she would have graduated alongside Raizel's sister, instead moving back home to Greece after her father had passed away.  Raizel hadn't bothered to keep in touch with most of her schoolmates, and she'd heard no news of Savvina since she'd vanished from school.

But here she stood, looking as if she'd suffered through a dozen lifetimes in the dozen years that had passed since they'd parted ways at Beit Gaddol.  Time had not been kind to the Greek mage.  She was much, much thinner than Raizel remembered her, with a shadowed look making her eyes wary and deep lines marking her face.

Savvina froze, staring at her.  An instant later, she'd crossed the room, throwing her arms around Raizel.  The Israeli mage stiffened, uncomfortable at the sudden contact, but caught herself an instant later, reaching up to awkwardly put her arms around her old school friend.

"How are you here?" asked Savvina, her voice muffled by Raizel's shoulder.  "How did you find me?"

Raizel gave a slight smile, drawing back to regard her better.

"One of the British Aurors," she said, shifting automatically to Hebrew.  If her English had become a little rusty after spending so long away from the United Kingdom, her Greek was even worse.  "He is a friend.  I had some other business with him, and he asked if I might know of you from Beit Gaddol."

Raizel spoke in Hebrew. It caused something to flicker in the back of Savvina's memory, but Savvina didn't pay attention to it. She was too concerned with the clashing of context with Raizel Cohen from so long ago here in this strange new reality. A reality where Savvina wore someone else's clothes and someone else's flat grey shoes, and Raizel Cohen was grown and very pretty.

Savvina took a long moment to decide what to say.

"I'm sorry," she admitted with a careful smile. "I am just surprised to see you. I want to offer you something to drink, but..."

No drinks though. Just an ominous looking chair. She shrugged at their predicament.

Then with a breath, Savvina tucked her hair behind her ear and crossed her arms over her chest. She'd told Bagnold she'd attended Beit Gaddol. Bagnold had told somebody else. Savvina was aware that her name and details were moving around the Ministry in the course of investigations that had little to do with her, but it still felt strange. She furrowed her brow. Something was bothering her, but she lifted it away.

"How are you? How is your sister? You said you're here on business."

She felt happy to not be speaking in English for awhile. Hebrew took her someplace else. How long had it been? There, that feeling again.

The Cursebreaker laughed, flashing her old schoolmate a tight, bemused smile.  There was no hospitality to offer here, not in this small, cold room in the middle of the British Ministry. 

It was far from a suitable place for a reunion, but it was what they had, here and in this moment.  Despite being years older than the last time that she'd seen her, Savvina seemed much smaller than Raizel remembered; smaller and much more fragile, as if moving too quickly might cause her to shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces. 

"I am well," Raizel said, automatically slipping her right hand into her pocket out of sight.  "Eszter was well, the last time I saw her.  Stubborn," she added with a faint smile.  That was one thing the two Cohen sisters had always had in common, much more so than their younger brother, Benny.  "She is married and living in Brussels now, working with the IFW."

Savvina had drawn back, crossing her arms against her chest and looking concerned.  Worried, perhaps, about the business that had brought Raizel here.  That was fair enough; if Raizel herself had been in Ministry custody for weeks only to have an old friend appear out of nowhere, she would have been equally suspicious of the circumstances.

"I work as a Cursebreaker for the goblin bank based here in London," she said mildly, raising an eyebrow at her schoolmate.  “I had stopped in to see my friend while I was here in the city to help him with a favor, and he mentioned that they had — had someone here in custody who had graduated from Beit Gaddol.”  The other word, the werewolf word, still felt too strange to apply to Savvina.  Whatever had happened to her friend after she’d left school, Raizel knew that she’d hardly scratched the surface of it.

“How are you?” she asked, biting her lip as she stepped back.  The other mage looked so much older than she had, so much more worn.  It seemed hard to believe that it was only due to her imprisonment in the British Ministry.  “What happened, Savvina?”

The IFW. The International Confederation of Wizards. Brussels had always been a horizon that had been pulled beyond her reach. She could have been a translator at the most magical city in Europe full of the most exciting people, but a maelstrom had thrown her off course. Try as she might, she couldn't get any closer. Not yet - she still had hope - but certainly not soon.

"I'm alright," he said, taking one of the chairs. It was an automatic reply, really. She was always alright. She did this at work, too, back at the hotel laundry. Friendly smiles, asking after others' children, and whenever any asked, she was alright and her weekend was good and then how is your family?  Being agreeable was working here, too. Performing solemn contrition, no self-pity, ask for just enough to make them feel they were treating her well. 

But Raizel was a friend, you know. Raizel didn't attempt to pretend they were at some shady cafe, catching up over espresso. That was best. Savvina was getting tired of pretending.

"I will tell you what happened, but you must know it is a sad story," she said with a little smile. "And the ending will be unsatisfying."

She began.

"I came here to London in the summer because everyone says that it is better for us here. I thought maybe I would rest and save some money. I found work, I made friends, and there are people who help, you know? There are safe places for the full moon, they can get the needed potions."

Savvina shrugged and said dryly, "couldn't ask for more, right?"

Then Savvina put her hands on the table and one thumb kneaded the other.

"I, em..." She felt suddenly overwhelmed and closed her eyes against dizziness. She opened them again and went on, her voice tighter. "I don't remember very much but I believe them when they tell me that in December, just before the full moon, I was taken by someone who set me loose. I killed three people for him."

It was the first time she'd said it like that, but then, she hadn't had to. The flow of that information was one way only.

"And then I woke up here."

She lifted her eyebrows and clicked her tongue. "See? Terrible story."

It could be nothing less than a sad, sad story.  It was sad enough to see her old school friend like this, locked away inside the depths of the British Ministry.  Raizel would have gone mad in such a place; and yet Savvina's captivity wasn't the climax of the story that she told, but rather its denouement.  It had been a sad, terrible road that brought her, and a sad, terrible, endless delay that made her suffer now.

The tale that she told was simple enough.  Taken in December.  Raizel clucked her tongue, disapproving.  Stolen and set loose.  The Cursebreaker had only faced a werewolf once in her life, in an adventure that had taken place far away from here, but she would be happy if she never encountered such a beast again.  And someone had kidnapped Savvina and turned her loose when she was in her most monstrous form.  If she'd murdered wixes, she was probably lucky that the unforgiving British werewolf hunters hadn't killed her.

"It was that Tawse, yeh?" she asked, disapproval creeping across her expression. 

Trevelyan had said that much: Tawse the wizard terrorist, who threatened fear and death against the Ministry.  Raizel could sympathize a little: a world without Ministrys to make rules and enforce regulations would be a much better one.  But there was a difference between wanting something and being willing to murder others for it.

It was a British battle, and not one that the Cursebreaker particularly wanted any part of.  But Savvina, poor Savvina, had been dragged into the middle of it.  And now, as she'd said, this was where she'd woken up: trapped in the middle of a terrible story, with no way to exit this distinctly British fight.

But that did beg the question.  Tawse had kidnapped Savvina.   Why had a British magical terrorist and murderer chosen her friend of all people to drag into this fight?

 Her brows knitted as she regarded her old schoolmate.  Trevelyan had also said that Savvina didn't remember what had happened to her, but Raizel wasn't surprised that she hadn't shared anything with the Aurors.  It was one thing to insist you didn't know anything when the British Ministry of Magic was questioning you; it was different when it was only her.

"You don't remember anything?" she pressed, a frown crossing her face.  "Nothing about how he found you?  Had you met him before somewhere, Savvina?" 

Before, Savvina had nodded when Raizel named Tawse. Everybody knew more about herself than she did. It felt uncomfortable to be seen. Raizel was a friend though. Oh, it was a long time ago, but she'd known her before and what a relief it was. It'd be, oh, years since she'd had the benefit of being seen as someone from before. And the feeling came again. Deja vu.

"You don't remember anything? [...] Nothing about how he found you?  Had you met him before somewhere, Savvina?"

Savvina sat forward to rest her knees on her elbows and her long black hair fell down around her face. She wrung her hands softly. The questioning wasn't unwelcome. She had the same questions too and it didn't upset her to hear them over and over. It was their common ground. It was the one thing that neither Savvina nor her stewards didn't know.

She sat up and gathered her hair in one motion and held it behind her head, taking a relaxing breath. 

Savvina shook her head with a little smirk. "I didn't hear of that man before I was having long talks with werewolf hunters on false beaches."

"It's like..." she narrowed her eyes in thought, searching for the words in Hebrew. "It's like the autumn just faded away. I think I remember the days getting colder like they should, but just gradually there's nothing. Perhaps that's the problem with routine, nothing to anchor a day."

And then a look came over her face, a sudden distant stare. Her arms behind her head slackened and began to lower.  Then her gaze clarified on Raizel.

"I remember you."

That was the feeling. The feeling of seeing Raizel it was familiar not because of the distant past, but because she'd seen her recently. She didn't know how, she didn't know when, and there was no image to grab hold of, but there could be no other explanation.

"I remember being happy to see you."

She hadn’t really been expecting for her questioning to get them anywhere that the Aurors couldn’t — there were one or two in the London office that she might trust, like Jonas Trevelyan, but Raizel knew as well as anyone what Auror questioning was really like — but Savinna’s initial response still made her blink.

Raizel squinted at her, brows quirking together.  Werewolf hunters and false beaches?  What in l’azazel was her old school friend talking about?

Savvina went on, and her words softened Raizel’s consideration.  Yes, routine certainly made one day slide into the next, particularly when there was nothing to look forward to and nothing to mark the passage of time.  It could move too slow and too quickly all at once, where a week could stretch into an eternity and entire months flew by in the stroke of a heartbeat.

But before she could commiserate with the creeping and precipitous nature of time, a strange look slid over Savvina’s face, sending a chill shivering down the Cursebreaker’s back.

"I remember you.”

“What?” she said, and backed up a step.  Savvina thought she’d been happy to see her?  That in itself was severely discomforting, as was the way that her old school friend was looking at her.  The implication that she’d meant anything to anybody made her want to bolt for the door.

But she couldn’t run, not without having to call for Trevelyan or someone else to let her out again, and that would mean someone wanting an explanation, which would surely bring up this whole uncomfortable line of conversation all over again.

“Savvina, what are you talking about?” she asked the other mage sharply, the Hebrew words clean and crisp.  She crossed her arms against her chest, all elbows and sharp edges as she leveled a look at the werewolf.  “I haven’t been in England in two years.  You haven’t seen me.”

The way Raizel reacted by stepping away and hardening her words made her suddenly seem a stranger. Savvina half stood from the chair, held up her hands in front of her and earnestly shushed Raizel. Raised voices would end their visit quickly.

"No, I saw you. We met in the park," Savvina insisted word by word, firm and careful. "I take Skýlos to the park almost every day and one day you were there. We spoke. I was surprised to see you."

It had been weeks since Savvina had felt anything and now she remembered something. She shut her eyes tight trying to see Raizel in the park but the image wasn't there. The park was there, Skýlos was there, but where was Raizel Cohen who she'd known in school far away in Biet Gaddol.

"Please. You remember. Tell me you remember."

Maybe this was a mistake. Something darkened behind Savvina's eyes, the growing dread that she was being tricked. Aurors had brought Raizel in, a ghost from nowhere who just happened be in London. They could be testing her memory, to see if they'd gotten it all.

Savvina rose and motioned for her to lower her voice, but Raizel backed up another step.  This story that her old school friend was spinning -- a surprise encounter in a park -- clearly hadn't happened.  Trevelyan had told her that Savvina had been arrested by the Ministry back in early December.  The last time that Raizel had been in England was over two years before, and she certainly would have remembered encountering an old school friend back then.

Had Savvina dreamed this up, after seeing her here now?  Was something damaged in her memory?  Or was this some fake remembrance, planted by Tawse when he'd kidnapped her?  Whatever the answer was, it suggested uncomfortable truths that she hadn't prepared herself to face today.  Why would a British magical terrorist even know about her to implant her in Savvina's memory?

The Cursebreaker swallowed uncomfortably, her gaze darting first to one side, then the other, as if searching for an escape.

"You are confused," she said, her voice halting.  Savvina was looking more like a trapped animal again now, wary and distrustful, like she had for the first few seconds when the Hitwizard had first brought her in.  Raizel swallowed, but didn't back down.

"There's nothing to remember, Savvina," she said firmly, shaking her head.  "I never saw you in a park.  I don't even know who Skýlos is!  Whatever you think happened, it isn't real."

Raizel didn't relent, insisting that they hadn't seen each other with a distant insistence. Savvina looked away, sat back, and tucked her hair behind her ear. It was like a steady calm came over her, like she'd cast a magical ward. A ward against disappointment, a ward to reset back to the reality that she was on her own. The suspicion that Raizel was involved in a conspiracy diminished somewhat since she had better reason to believe her memory was faulty than Raizel was somehow associated with Cinead Tawse.

This wasn't right. Savvina felt so sure. For a moment she forgot Raizel was there. When she did she took a breath and looked back up to her old friend and smiled in that hollow way she'd smiled for many people here in the British ministry's compound. Raizel deserved to be released from this.

"You must be right. Nevermind. I'm just happy you came, you know? It's been a long time since I've seen a friendly face."

A friendly face, she'd said, looking at a witch whose face was more defensive than full of care.

It had been curiosity that had driven her to ignore her misgivings about the British Ministry and come here today: curiosity at encountering another Beit Gaddol graduate so far from home, and perhaps a tinge of guilt or sympathy after Trevelyan had relayed part of Savvina's story.  Raizel might have even entertained the notion that she alone could put part of the pieces together, could figure out the strange link between her old school friend's past and the predicament that the once-unregistered werewolf had found herself in. 

But Savvina's words seemed design to force her to be more than just a passive reader dabbling in this sad story.  If Savvina was to be believed, then it was Raizel, or someone who looked very much like her, whom she might have encountered in a park.

The Cursebreaker knew the unspoken agreement she'd made with Trevelyan.  He'd gotten her in to see Savvina, with the understanding that if she learned anything that might be helpful to the Ministry, then she'd share it with him in return.  But now that she'd been forced to confront her old friend's words, Raizel wanted more than anything to simply flee from this place, to ignore the weight of what Savvina had implied until she was far, far away from the Ministry's reach.

At Raizel's insistence, the mage in front of her had seemed to pull back, to withdraw suddenly within herself.  Savvina gave her an empty smile, a mere depression where there had been such warmth mere moments before.

"You must be right," she started to say.

It wasn't cruelty that drove her, but it might have looked at such as Raizel rose to her feet.

"Well, I hope you can find out the truth of it," she said, switching back to stiff English for the first time since her former schoolmate had entered the small room.  She looked to the door, where Trevelyan had said the Hitwizards would be waiting, and started towards it.  "I hope that it can lead you back home again, Savvina."

That was that, you know. Savvina had come into the room expecting nothing and she'd found a puzzle, someone so near who was also so far. What Raizel expected, Savvina couldn't guess but she'd found some wandering ghost with unfinished business.

"I do, too. Goodbye, Raizel." Savvina stood and crossed her arms. She'd responded in English. It had been a good idea. It put them both back in the room.

"My best wishes to your family."

Maybe it would have been better to meet on that beach, the false one with the cliffs and crashing waves and wind from nowhere. Where they could have pretended.

Fin