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The Man With the Missing Past by libertyelyot [Reviews - 5]

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“Basil, we’ve had a breakthrough with Patient X,” she began neutrally.

“Excellent!” beamed Okonedo, looking up vividly. “I knew I’d picked the right person for the job, Jemima.”

“You might not think so when you hear what’s happened. He’s…discharged himself.”

“He’s what? Where has he gone?”

“I don’t know,” lied Jemima. “I took him out into town to see if he would have any strong memory associations with places. We ran into somebody who knew him. He decided then and there to go with that person and unravel the mystery of his past life alone.”

“No,” groaned Okonedo. “We had a chance to do some really valuable research here, Jemima!”

“I know that! Believe me, I would have welcomed the prestige. But…he’s gone. I couldn’t force him to come back, could I?”

“I suppose not,” groused Okonedo, sounding less than understanding. “So who was he in the end?”

“His name was Severus Snape. He was a schoolteacher. An ex-pupil recognised him,” said Jemima cautiously, not sure how much was safe to reveal.

“Do we have a date of birth? Place of domicile?”

“Oh…afraid not.”

Okonedo sighed and pressed his intercom. “Sadie, can you find the NHS number of a Severus Snape – date of birth somewhere between 1955 and 1965. Shouldn’t be too hard to find with that name. Thanks. Somebody’s got to pay us for that…bloody time-waster,” he sniped at Jemima, clicking the machine off.

She nodded, her mouth set in a rueful line, and escaped his baleful eye, disappearing into the corridor to entertain endless mental previews of her dinner date.

*

“I completely forgot,” muttered Severus apologetically, letting Jemima into a kitchen that resembled a crime scene, “that food is one of Gamp’s Five Exceptions to Transfiguration.”

“Oh…right,” said Jemima slowly, surveying the devastation around her. “What did you try to do?”

“I thought I could…oh, it doesn’t matter.” He sank despondently into a kitchen chair. “It is taking me longer than I expected to get back into the wizarding swing. I thought once I had recalled what happened that night...it would all come easily.”

Jemima turned to him swiftly, all concern at the state of her work surfaces pushed out of her head. “What? You remember what happened…that night?”

“Only the last moments. Presumably after having given the memories away.”

“So?”

“There was a boy. Potter, I suppose. I wanted him to go away. I was very close to death and if he didn’t go soon I would certainly die. So I let him believe I was dead already, feigned death. Not for the first time, I think. I seemed to know the form. I had my wand…I knew a counter-curse that reversed the effects of a…Sectumsempra, I think….and although my flesh wound was not caused by a curse…I thought it might work…if I was able to…” He broke off, frowning at the effort of memory. “I was very weak at the time, Jemima, and it isn’t very clear…what I was really thinking and what might have been an illusion. But the counter-curse seemed to do the trick. It sealed up the worst of the gash, until only the fang marks were left. I had to deal with the venom…that’s where the bezoar came in.”

“Oh! The stone!”

“Indeed. It is an antidote to virtually all known poisons. I carried one on my person at all times, presumably as a consequence of my dangerous occupation. I could scarcely move but I was able to use my wand to Accio…summon…it from my robes. So that dealt with that element of risk. But I was still dangerously weak. I had lost so much blood, and nobody was coming to save me. Indeed, I didn’t want them to. Although I had lost my memories, I had a primitive consciousness of needing to get away, to start again. I think…though I can’t swear…I must have planned this, at least in part. I must have transferred some of my memories of spells and charms to some kind of back-up storage area in my brain. I used a spell – Mobilicorpus – to transport my body through the air, down a tunnel and out. Then I just floated on until the spell wore out and I fell where I was found. I was lucky. Had I lain there much longer, no doubt I would have died. But at least I would not have died in that place. For some reason it was important that I didn’t die in that place.”

“What was the place?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t exactly deluxe accommodation, shall we say. Just some hovel.”

“So…it sounds as if you were expecting the attack?”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? But I won’t be able to remember anything further until I find this Potter.”

“How are you going to do it?”

He shrugged. “Not on an empty stomach hopefully.”

Jemima took the unsubtle hint. “I’ll call for a takeaway,” she suggested. “Shall we open a bottle? Move into the living room? I can’t face this mess any more.”

While Severus busied himself with a corkscrew, Jemima wondered why they hadn’t pumped Pansy a bit harder for information. Why hadn’t she asked about his living relatives? Any family? Any…woman…in the picture? Would Pansy have mentioned it anyway? It was hard to tell; the girl had been so carried away by seeing him she had been rather less than coherent. There could be any amount of important information missing. It could well be life-threateningly dangerous for Snape to go back into the wizarding world, for instance. Jemima took the glass of red wine Severus offered her and sipped at it, watching his movements closely.

“You were a teacher then,” she said, breaking the companionable silence. “Strange. It’s not what I’d have expected.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement of her words. “You don’t see me as a typical member of a caring profession, Jemima?”

She smiled at the trap he was laying for her. “There is no ‘typical’ member of the caring professions, Severus. I mean, look at me.”

“I am looking at you.” She flushed.

“I’m not…I just meant…I’m not that kind of…touchy feely…”

“No. I see that.”

“Is that wrong?” she asked, genuinely wanting his opinion. She often wondered if she had chosen the right path in life, successful though she was in her field.

“Personally, I find it refreshing,” he said with a tiny smile. “I’d rather be treated by intelligent people than emotional ones. Though I’ve heard one can combine both. How, is another question that I suspect I might find rather beyond my capabilities.”

“Do you think you’ve ever loved anybody?” she dared, surprised at her nerve.

“I don’t know,” he said at length, staring down his long nose at his interlocutor. “Have you?”

Inward maledictions at being put thus on the spot raged in Jemima’s head. She might have known he’d turn the question-weapon back on her.

“My family,” she said blandly. “Maybe…some ill-advised…perhaps it was infatuation rather than love. I…don’t know.”

“You can’t distinguish love from infatuation?”

“I didn’t really have time. Either time. They were short-lived; they ended before I could really decide…”

“You ended them?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you’re lucky at cards.”

Jemima threw an indignant look over at Severus. How flippantly cruel he was. It was difficult to talk about her past relationships; couldn’t he see that?

“It seems I’m not the sensitive type,” he sighed. “Another realisation made too late.”

“You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met,” said Jemima. “I’ve never met anybody quite like you.”

Severus laughed. “A wizard? No, I suppose not.”

The food arrived and they spent the next half hour engrossed in noodles and bean sprouts, discussing the differences between Magical and Muggle cookery.

“I have a notion of how I might be able to find Harry Potter without being recognised,” said Severus as Jemima cleared the foil cartons away.

“Oh?”

“It came to me earlier on. Polyjuice Potion. It enables one to take on the physical form of another. But I will need your help.”

Jemima’s hairs stood to attention on her neck and head. He wanted her. He needed her.

“Oh? OK. Two heads are better than one.”

“If you’re a Hydra.”

“Sorry?”

“Ignore me. Everybody else does. No, I may need you to procure some ingredients for me. And a cauldron.”

“You want me to go…cauldron shopping?”

“Is that a problem? I’ll come with you, if you want. But I’ll have to be quite well disguised, as we discussed.”

“Oh…right. When?”

“Tomorrow?”

Jemima giggled. “I’ll pencil it into the diary. Case conference…ward round…cauldron shopping.”

“I’m obliged to you, Jemima. I appreciate this, you know.”

She felt flustered. “Oh, it’s fine.”

He took her hand. “It isn’t fine. It’s very…”

She pulled it away as if burnt. “I have to clear up the kitchen,” she announced to the air. “Spare room is the second on the right. Let me know if you need anything.”


The Man With the Missing Past by libertyelyot [Reviews - 5]

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