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( the spell )
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━━ As Sirius was placing a memory in the pensieve, Mila nervously scanned Dumbledore's office, rifling through random objects.
"So ... I have a question," she said.
"What is it?" Sirius asked. He was still quite occupied with his task, but he tried to tune in to listen to her.
"It seems unlikely that nobody, at all, ever let slip that they knew me."
She saw Sirius' hesitation, but he was in the honest mood, "That's because they didn't know."
She frowned, "What does that mean?"
"They filled me in on this later. You know, on account of me being arrested and all."
"Sure."
"But basically, Dumbledore came to the──the scene where they found you. At James' house. He had to think quickly. He said your memories were in a kind of limbo, so he thought it would be better if──if the world thought you were dead."
That struck her as bizarre. Every wizard knew strange and awful things could happen: it wouldn't be beyond the realm of possibility to believe that someone had been reborn, and was living their life over. There must have been a reason Dumbledore wanted people to think that.
"Dead? So people think there was just another Mila Lovett who happened to be rolling around?" she asked. She grabbed a nearby book and pretended to flick through it, calming herself by having something else to focus on.
He shook his head, "No, I explained that wrong. More like if you never existed. He placed a seal on your own memories, and by extension, it erased you from other people. Nobody knew you from before."
"But that's not true. You know me, Lupin, Dumbledore, McGonagall."
Sirius looked like he didn't even understand it himself, "Yeah, well, he was able to make a few exceptions. But the rest of the Order, and some of the professors, they only know about you because he told them. They don't actually hold any real memory of you."
