As Gus pulled him through the doorway, Basil couldn’t help but look around sheepishly. It wasn’t in fact a passageway but a room. A room with a bed and some other sparse furnishings. He grimaced a little bit as his head started to pound again, and eyed Gus - who was now quite close and cupping his face - with all the open trust in the world. The pleading tone in the other’s voice piqued his interest and Basil tried to listen, tried to hear what Gus was telling him. He thought back to his last memory of waking and that… that girl? Was that who he meant? “I-I don’t know any Poppy Dashwood,” Basil said, shaking himself free. He tried to wrack his brain for some semblance of familiarity in that girl’s face but there was none. If anything, she looked the tiniest, tiniest bit like his Aunt Georgiana, but Aunt Georgie was a Foxwood. And she was abroad, anyway! Basil scrunched his eyes shut as a fresh wave of pain ran through his skull.
Gus continued speaking, something about a spell and working here and not… not being seventeen? What did that mean, he taught here? He actually grew up to become a professor at Hogwarts? (And papa let him?!) None of this made any sense at all. Basil sunk into the chair offered him with a pale visage and swirling, aching thoughts. He looked into deep blue hues with such confusion, searching for any semblance of this reality Gus was telling him about in his own mind. There wasn’t a single memory beyond… well… beyond… “Argh,” Basil leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands.
This didn’t seem right. Especially that last part! What could Lissing possibly mean, he wasn’t in any of Basil’s last decade of memories?! No, there had to be some other explanation. Something else, something Gus wasn’t telling him. They were best friends, they were—
There was no way they could possibly have graduated and just… lost touch.
“That can’t be right,” he said, lifting his head gingerly to look towards the other. There were so many things wrong with the reality Gus was trying to fabricate, he didn’t even know where to begin. Basil grappled with all of them, turning over his father, and his aunt, and even Gus himself. Then, sucking in a deep breath, he spoke again, quietly. “There’s no way I could be missing a decade of memories and you simply aren’t in any of them.” Standing slowly, he paced back and forth a few steps.
“Really, Gus, you can’t expect me to believe that?” He laughed, incredulously. “Say… say I do believe that you hit me with some kind of memory spell. The reality of not having you in my life, it’s just… impossible. Entirely improbable, and quite frankly, I refuse to agree that it ever happened! Not after—” He cut himself off abruptly, voice having risen in pace and intensity the more he spoke. Not after everything that’s transpired between us. Grey hues flared angrily. Basil didn’t know if he was upset at the mere idea of their having drifted apart, or at his not remembering it. He supposed, in some backwards, miserable reality - sure, things could have derailed. But surely they weren’t both selfish enough to let it just… stay that way?
“Tell me.” He demanded. “Tell me what happened.”