BROTHER, DO YOU BELIEVE
IN AN AFTERLIFE?
bear's den

GOING OUT TO RANDOM MUGGLE CLUBS was something the McDowell twins did often. Hitting up random after parties was less common but still enjoyable.

It was a Tuesday night at around three in the morning but neither Cleo nor Zane were tired in the slightest. Uni students knew how to have fun which was something they didn't see a lot of with their magical friends. Everyone was too depressed to party.

The flat was full of drunk students just getting more drunk. They had successfully tagged along with a large group of people only a few years younger than them. The twins didn't seem out of place at all despite their pureblood status and wizarding education.

Cleo was slouched on a slightly stained couch with a red cup in her hand. Zane was next to her looking around the room, waiting for something entertaining to happen.

"Going out with you isn't as fun now that you're in a serious relationship," he scoffed.

Cleo rolled her eyes. "Go cry about it, Z. I'll have you know it's a slightly open relationship, however, I have yet to find someone I fancy as much as Luna."

"Wow," Zane sighed. He placed his hands on his heart and poured. "I'm touched."

"I'll give you three Galleons to leave me alone and go pull that guy by the refrigerator."

"His back is turned, Cleo. He could be a troll. Three Galleons to kiss a troll?"

She scoffed, "I've seen you do worse for less."

"You've convinced me." Zane sighed. He got up off the couch and walked towards the boy clad in a leather jacket with buzzed hair. Cleo decided she wanted to see Zane's attempt at flirting and went over to them.

Seeing her twin in uncomfortable situations was something she enjoyed in her own weirdly sadistic way.

"Excuse me," Zane said, scooching past the boy, "Just grabbing a dr — have we met before?"

Cleo snapped her head towards the boy and nearly fainted. Doppelgängers existed though, right? It was possible that some people just look like other people, right?

"What's your name?" Cleo asked, making her presence known.

"Matthew Bridges. But please, call me Matty," the boy said. Cleo noticed he had painted nails and was very tall. Freckles danced across his nose and she couldn't exactly tell in the light, but his eyes looked a bright blue.

Any doubt Cleo had in her mind was washed away once she saw the small details of him.

She didn't want to jump to conclusions though.

"Where are you from, Matty?" She asked.

He shrugged, "Not sure. I'm an orphan so I could be from wherever. What about you two? I mean — assuming you're siblings. If you're together then you might want to do a DNA test."

Zane chuckled, "Yeah, mate. She's my twin sister. We're from London."

"I've always wanted a sister. Now that you mention it — you lot look familiar too. You come to these afters often?"

"Sometimes, yeah," Cleo nodded.

"You students?"

"Not quite..."

Cleo couldn't handle the tension. She looked over at Zane with pleading eyes and said, "Should we call Rory?"

"Rory?" Matty raised an eyebrow. "That's the main character in my novel. Is this Rory a boy or a girl?"

His accent was much different than it used to be. He spoke a lot more improperly and boyishly than he used to. He sounded Cockney which contrasted greatly with his old London charm.

Maybe Cleo was making things up, maybe she was wishful thinking. There were too many small coincidences adding up.

"A-A girl. Does the name Aurora Archer mean anything to you?" Zane stuttered.

Marty's eyes widened, "Blimey, how'd you know the name of my — aye! You must've read me when I got published in that magazine!"

"Yeah! That must be it! Say, A –I mean, Matty, I actually work for a literature magazine and I'd love to hear more about your work. Can I have your number?" Cleo lied quickly.

"Sure! I'll write it down for ya! Make sure to ask for me when you call though because I've got 'bout four other roommates," he chuckled.

"Student life," Zane nodded in a desperate attempt to be relatable.

"I'm having some friends over next Saturday so I've added me address too," Matty grinned. "Hope to see you there." He added with a wink to Zane.

Then, he disappeared into the crowd.

Cleo looked at her twin and gaped.

"That was..." she began.

"That was Aaron fucking Archer, back from the dead."

IT WAS A SLOW DAY AT ST. MUNGOS'S. Andrew liked slow days because it meant people weren't hurting. He remembered how busy it was after the war and wished for it never to be like that again. On slow days he liked to train people since it was one of his favorite things to do. He felt more comfortable knowing that the future of St. Mungo's was in his hands.

He was mostly focused on training Mind Healers since they were needed. Cleo McDowell was possibly his most enthusiastic trainee. So enthusiastic that about twenty minutes before she was due to clock in, she was knocking on his office door.

"Come in," he replied. The girl smiled and took a seat at the chair across from his desk.

"Healer Harrison — "

"Andy," he corrected.

"Right, sorry. Andy... what do you know about memory-altering charms? Or... resurrection?"

"Well, resurrection's not possible, unfortunately. As far as memory charms go though, depending on how strong they are they can fade. There's actually an influx of people coming into our spell damage ward because their old memories are catching up with their new ones. After a few weeks with us though, they get their old memories back and the new ones are as distant as a dream."

"W-Wow... So they can be undone then?"

"Either by someone else or by the passage of time, yes. Why?"

Andrew was all for curiosity from his trainees, but he often needed a reason why. For all he knew, Cleo could be planning to perform a memory charm on someone and he felt responsible for making sure she used information wisely.

"Zane and I saw someone... someone believed to be dead... I looked into it and thought maybe a memory charm was involved. He went by a different name, had a different story, he spoke differently but there were some details that couldn't be an accident. I think he has memories of his old life buried really deep inside and..."

"Who?" Andrew asked rather urgently.

Cleo bit her bottom lip and looked around the room nervously, "Er... your son. Aaron."

Andrew couldn't believe it. The first thing he felt was anger like it was all some sort of cruel joke.

"Please... Think about what you're saying right now." Andrew begged. "If you're mistaken —"

"I'm not," the woman said sternly. "I can prove it... kind of."

"Then prove it," Andrew didn't have patience. If there was a possibility his son could be alive he couldn't risk anything. He couldn't be happy at the news because hope was a fickle thing.

"D'you have a phone?" She asked nervously.

"I'm the only one in this place with any sense, so yes, I do. They enchanted some at the Ministry to work in high magic areas and I got my hands on one as soon as I could. They're trying to make magical advancements in technology." He said with a shaky breath, pushing the phone on his desk towards Cleo.

"How do I... I'm used to the ones with buttons," she said. She handed Andrew a small piece of paper with some numbers and an address on it and he froze.

"Where is this from?"

"He gave it to me."

A lump formed in Andrew's throat and his vision went foggy. It was Aaron's handwriting, there was no denying it. It was slowly making sense. They had never found Aaron's body and no one witnessed his murder. Still, why would a group of Death Eaters spare his life after...

"Wait outside my office," Andrew said quietly. "Please. I'll call you back in here in a bit but I need to do something first."

Cleo nodded and left quickly, closing the door behind her. Andrew looked at the photograph of Aaron and Rory on his desk and began crying. He had tried to push his feelings about Aaron aside for years. There was no one to blame but him for the death of his son. He couldn't handle the insurmountable guilt that crushed him like an anvil every day he woke up. If there was a chance Aaron was still alive it would allow him to breathe again, but it also meant he got his son back. He wouldn't have to live life suffocating by grief anymore. Emily could know her brother and Rory could have a glimmer of hope.

He got out a quill and parchment and wrote.

Dealla,

It's me, Andy. Hi. I know we haven't spoken in ages but I need to talk to you. Feel free to toss this letter aside if I'm speaking nonsense but did you ever perform a memory charm on a young boy around 1997? I know you're excellent at them and with your husband's line of "work" things are starting to add up. Please write back if you know anything.

Andy

He shoved the letter in an envelope and left his office. He went to the hospital's post office and gave the letter to the first owl he saw. He didn't have time for everything else. He needed an answer from Dealla no matter how awkward it was to reach out. His mind was buzzing and he felt like he was living in a very strange, very twisted dream.

He went back to his office and brought Cleo back in.

"I've written to an old friend and until she writes back you tell no one about this, okay? Keep seeing him if you can. Whatever you do though don't mention this to Rory. If any of us made a mistake... she can't afford to lose her brother again."

a/n:
you didn't see that one coming?