The summons had been brief. Her provided statement was too short, her instructions on how to proceed too unclear, for her to avoid this second interaction with him. She had delayed coming back in for as long as possible, using whatever stolen time she had to steel herself against the second emotional onslaught that was to come. She might've been able to stomach the entire world forgetting her if there had been even the slightest hint of remembrance in his eyes. They mattered, she had insisted only last week.

Evidently, not enough.

She ought to have requested another Ministry official. There had to be someone — anyone — equally qualified to take her statement, someone that wouldn't push her to the verge of tears by simply not knowing her name. "My mother, Mrs. Lenore Hunniford. You've met her before, she looks like an older version of me." Rosalie managed to reply, her expression tense as her nails dug painfully into her palms.

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