For the next several weeks, Hedwig had very little time to do anything other than fly back and forth between Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, delivering letters.
Dear Ron,
I realize you’re angry with me, but I need you to hear me out. You’re the only one on the outside that I feel like I can trust, so I’m going to have to ask you to keep this quiet. I’ve lost my memory. I can’t remember anything from the time I was ten until the beginning of this past summer holiday. That’s why my last letter was so vague: I honestly don’t remember who you are. Sorry.
The weird thing is, I keep having these dreams that turn out to be real - that’s how I found out about you. During the Christmas holiday, I dreamed about hiding something under a floorboard in my cousin’s second bedroom, so I went upstairs to look, and I found an old letter from you. The letter said to send a reply with Hedwig, and I only just found out that Hedwig is the snowy owl that’s been hanging around me for the past several months. That’s why I haven’t written before.
I’m sure you understand why I can’t tell you where I am just yet: I can’t trust anybody. I literally had somebody try to kill me three times last term, and I can’t afford to take any chances. If I’m satisfied with your answers to my questions, then we’ll go from there.
Questions:
- Who are you, and how do we know each other?
- Who am I?
- Who are Hermione and Dumbledore? (Are those even real names, or are they some sort of codenames?)
- Have you ever made weird stuff happen? (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then you haven’t.)
- What’s a “Muggle”?
Harry
P.S. What’s a Howler?
Dear Harry,
I can’t believe how much time I just wasted writing my reply. I wrote about three feet about who you are and the things we’ve done together - way more than I’ve ever written for a class - but Dumbledore made me promise not to send it. He said that giving you too much information like that might do more damage to your memory and make it harder for you to ever remember anything. I can answer specific questions about things you’ve started to remember, but I can’t just tell you everything the way I wanted to. He did say that I might get to tell you later, though - after we’re sure why you lost your memory in the first place.
Anyway, I can’t believe your memory’s gone! It’s crazy! I take back everything I said in my last letter about you being a prat. Really, I just want my best mate back.
Now to answer your questions:
1) I’m Ron Weasley. We met at King’s Cross Station when we were getting ready to board the train to school for our first year. I live in Ottery St. Catchpole, and I have five older brothers (Bill, Charlie, Percy the Prat, Fred, and George), and a younger sister named Ginny. Fred and George are twins, and they’re the pranksters of the family.
2) You’re Harry Potter. Your parents were James and Lily Potter, but they died when you were about a year old. You were “raised” by your aunt and uncle, but all they really did was lock you in the cupboard under the stairs and ignore you. I’m not really sure what you’re looking for with this one. Sorry.
3) Hermione and Dumbledore are both real names. I had to “accidentally” drop a big blob of ink onto your last letter so that Hermione wouldn’t be able to read that part - she can be a little touchy about that sort of thing sometimes. Anyway, Hermione Granger is our other best friend. She’s in the same year as us in school, and she’s by far the smartest person around. She can be a bit of a bookworm, but she’s helped us break the rules plenty of times, too. Albus Dumbledore is our Headmaster.
4) If by “weird stuff” you mean magic, then yes. Hermione’s a witch, and I’m a wizard, just like you. She told me that you might be worried that we’d turn our backs on you if we found out you could do magic. Don’t worry about it - I’d be worried if you couldn’t do any.
5) A Muggle is what witches and wizards call somebody who can’t do magic.
I hope those answers are good enough. If you remember any more of your dreams, you could write about them, and we could try and fill in the gaps for you.
Can you tell us where you are yet? If somebody tried to kill you three times, then we really need to get you out of there.
Oh, I almost forgot. A Howler is a really nasty letter you send when you want to tell somebody off. It comes in a red envelope, and it explodes if you don’t open it right away. Once it’s open, you don’t have to read it because it screams at you in a magically amplified voice. Now you know why I wanted to send you one when I thought you were just being a prat, and why Dumbledore and Hermione told me not to.
Bye-
Ron
Dear Ron,
I’m not sure what I was looking for when I asked you who I was either, so don’t worry about it. I’m not sure I like this whole guessing game where I have to ask specific questions to find out about myself, but it doesn’t look like I have much choice, does it? For now, just tell me if these dreams mean anything to you. I’m afraid some of them are pretty short.
1) I’m with the Dursleys in a shack by the sea. There’s a great pounding at the door that knocks it off its hinges. In the doorway, there’s a giant.
2) I’m watching a man take a turban off of his head. When he finishes, there’s a face growing out of the back of his head, and the scar on my forehead burns. (I’m not sure if you know this or not, but I have a scar on my forehead that’s shaped like a lightning bolt. My aunt hates it, which is probably why I’ve always thought it was sort of cool.)
3) I’m running away from someone or something. It’s dark, and I’m running down long corridors and stone staircases with two other boys and a girl with really bushy hair. We end up trapped outside a large door. The girl unlocks it by whispering, “Alohomora,” and we escape inside.
Sorry, but I still don’t feel comfortable telling anyone where I am. And don’t worry, the bloke that kept trying to kill me got chucked out and sent to a youth prison.
Take care,
Harry
Dear Harry,
Not that I’m not flattered that you chose me to write to, but you might want to try writing to Hermione - she’s a much better writer than I am, and she includes a lot more details. Just something to think about. As far as the dreams, here goes:
1) I’m not sure, but I talked to Hagrid and I think this is when you first found out you were a wizard. He said the Dursleys were trying to hide so you wouldn’t get the letter telling you all about it, so he finally went to deliver the letter personally. Oh, I almost forgot you don’t know who Hagrid is. He’s the Gamekeeper here at Hogwarts (that’s our school), and he’s a teacher too. He’s not really a giant, though. He’s just half-giant.
2) This happened in first year. I’m not sure how much I should tell you about this one, because it gets really complicated really fast. The man with the turban was Professor Quirrell - he was our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that year. Ironically, he was being possessed by a dark wizard - that’s whose face you saw sticking out of the back of his head. I know all about your scar - actually, everyone does. It always hurts when that particular dark wizard is around.
3) This was also in first year. You, me, Hermione, and Neville (he’s in our same dorm) were out after curfew, and we were running away from Filch (the caretaker). We ended up outside that locked door, and Hermione used magic to unlock it.
I really wish you’d tell us where you are so we could come get you out of there. Think about it.
Until next time,
Ron
As Harry read the letter, he felt a rush of excitement; he did know Hermione after all. She was the bushy-haired girl who had taught him so many useful spells. Perhaps he should take Ron’s advice and write to her next.
Dear Hermione,
I’m sorry for not trusting you enough to write before. Like I told Ron, I have to be careful because it’s hard to be sure who’s really my friend and who’s just trying to get close enough to cause me harm.
I guess I’ll just write a few more of the dreams that I can remember.
1) I’m in the middle of a really dense and foggy forest. After a bit, I hear a long, gasping breath that just doesn’t sound natural. I hold up a polished wooden stick and point it at the sound. Finally, I see a tall, hooded figure coming at me, but it’s like it’s just gliding through the air. My knees go weak, and my ears start ringing. Then I hear a woman scream, “Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” After that, there’s a flash of green light and cold, high-pitched laughter.
2) I’m being chased by a heat-seeking missile while flying through the air on a broomstick.
3) A pale man with long, greasy black hair and a black robe is glaring at me over a bubbling cauldron.
4) I’m sitting at a small desk, writing the words ‘I must not tell lies’ over and over again with a long, black quill. Each time I write, the words are carved into the back of my hand, and I’m pretty sure the ink is really my own blood. (I really have scars on the back of my hand that spell out ‘I must not tell lies.’)
That’s all the dreams I can think of for right now.
Harry
Dear Harry,
I’m so glad you finally realized that you know me! I’ve been helping Ron with his letters, of course, but it’s not the same as being able to write to you personally. I do hope that everything is going well with you, wherever you are.
So far, we’ve managed to keep the fact that we’re corresponding with you a secret. The only ones who know are you, me, Ron, and Professor Dumbledore. I think Ginny - that’s Ron’s sister, if you didn’t know - might suspect something because she saw Hedwig flying out of my dormitory window after dropping off your letter, but she hasn’t said anything outright.
Now, on to your dreams:
1) I don’t know if this exact thing happened before, but it sounds a bit like what happened in our third year when you were attacked by dementors. Dementors are just like what you described, and they suck all of the happiness out of you and make you relive your worst memories. The stick you pointed at it was your magic wand. We use wands to cast spells and things.
(As she wrote, Hermione deliberately avoided mentioning that the memory Harry had been forced to relive had been his mother’s murder at the hand of Lord Voldemort. Somehow, she didn’t feel that a letter was the appropriate way to reveal that sort of information.)
2) The heat-seeking missile is probably really a Bludger. I’d be willing to bet that this dream is about a Quidditch match in our second year, when you spent the entire match being chased by a mad Bludger. You see, Quidditch is a sport that wizards play on broomsticks. It’s sort of complicated to explain, although I’m sure Ron would be happy to outline every last detail and nuance of the game if you would like. I’ll just give you the basics that you need to understand your dream. In Quidditch, there are four balls: the Quaffle, which is used for scoring goals; the Golden Snitch, which the Seeker (you) has to catch in order to end the game; and the Bludgers, which the Beaters hit at the other team’s players to try to knock them off their brooms. During this particular Quidditch match, one of the Bludgers had been bewitched to follow you around and spend the entire game trying to knock you off your broom. Obviously, you made it out okay, but that’s another story.
3) The pale man is Professor Snape, the Potions Master. I imagine that’s the reason you dreamed about him with a cauldron.
4) This dream is about your detentions with Professor Umbridge, the interloper from the Ministry of Magic who came to teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts - or, rather, to prevent us learning defense - in our fifth year. She claimed you were lying because you tried to tell everyone that a certain dark wizard (the one Ron told you about that makes your scar burn whenever he’s nearby) had returned. You weren’t lying, by the way. Anyway, Umbridge gave you detention for ‘lying’ about this dark wizard being back, and your punishment was writing ‘I must not tell lies’ with her Blood Quill. She made you do it so many times that you ended up with scars.
Harry, are our responses helping you remember anything at all, or are we just wasting all of our time? Please tell us where you are so that we can get together and talk properly. We need to figure out what happened to your memory. Write back soon.
Love from,
Hermione
P.S. Be careful, Harry. I’m not quite sure how to tell you this, but the boy that got sent to youth prison isn’t the only one who wants you dead. There’s a group of dark wizards who are after you too.
As Harry read the end of Hermione’s letter, a sense of foreboding settled over him. If dark wizards were looking for him, how long would it take for them to learn he was at St. Brutus’s?
Harry sucked on the end of his pen as he contemplated what to write. So far, he hadn’t mentioned his most frequent dream - the face of the mystery girl - mainly because he didn’t know how to bring it up. It wasn’t as if he could really describe her, anyway; he had learned that much from trying to describe her to Tyler. But he was desperately curious about this girl, and wanted very much to know if she was real and, if so, who she was. Finally resolving to ask Ron (because he had an inkling that Hermione might be the girl in question, and asking her could lead to awkwardness), Harry began to write.
Dear Ron,
There’s one more dream I want to ask about, but it’s sort of awkward. I keep dreaming about this girl, but all I ever see is her face. I know she’s shorter than me (not much help, I know), and she has brown eyes and is very pretty, but other than that, nothing. I’ve never even seen her hair. I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I think I might fancy her, you know? What I wanted to know is, did I have a girlfriend before I lost my memory? If I did, could you possibly find a way to send me a picture of her? This has really been bothering me lately, especially since I’m not even sure this girl is real.
I also wanted to tell you that I’m at -
Harry stopped. He had been about to write that he was at St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, but he suddenly found himself unable to continue writing. He tried again.
I’m in -
It was no good. For some reason, he physically could not write the words.
I’m sorry, Ron, I can’t tell you where I am.
Please respond soon,
Harry
Dear Harry,
I don’t mind telling you that your last letter made me feel a bit awkward. Hermione’s the one who talks about relationships and stuff. I’m the one who talks about Quidditch. And food. But I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want to ask a girl about that sort of thing - she’d probably want to analyze everything, while I’ll just tell you what you want to know. Actually, I’m sort of glad we’re doing this by post, because I don’t know that I’d be able to have this conversation in person.
Brown eyes and pretty doesn’t really narrow it down much. I mean, I think we can safely eliminate Marietta Edgecombe and Eloise Midgen, but that still leaves plenty of other girls. To answer your question, you did have a girlfriend last year - her name is Cho Chang - but you ‘parted on bad terms,’ as Hermione would say. Basically, you had a huge row near the end of the year, and you never spoke to each other again.
You didn’t mention that the girl in your dream looked Asian at all, though, so I doubt it was Cho anyway. Then again, maybe you just didn’t think about it. I’ll send a picture of her with this letter.
I really wish you’d just tell us where you are so we could come and get you.
Take care,
Ron
As soon as he finished reading the letter, Harry looked up at Hedwig, who was watching him from her perch on a low branch, and noticed the photograph tied to her left leg. He had been in such a hurry to get the letter off of her right leg that he had completely missed it before. After carefully untying it, he flattened out the picture and jumped in shock as the girl smiled shyly at him and waved.
“What is it?” Tyler asked. “Is it her?”
“No,” Harry replied, “but look!” He showed the moving picture to Tyler, who just gaped at it.
“Do you think she can talk?” Tyler asked.
“I don’t know,” Harry said. Addressing the photo, he tentatively asked, “Er, Cho? Can you talk?” The girl simply continued waving. “I guess not,” Harry concluded.
“Any idea who your dream girl is, then?” asked Tyler.
“You’re awfully interested in this, Tyler. I’m not sure that’s healthy.”
“Lay off; I just want to make sure you’re interested in other humans, that’s all.”
Harry punched him lightly on the arm before shrugging and saying, “I kind of think it might be Hermione, but I can’t be sure. And I can’t ask about that because it would be too weird. I mean, she was one of my best friends, and she probably will be again someday. I can’t just go asking if she’s the girl I’ve been dreaming about.”
“Good point,” Tyler observed. “I guess you’ll just have to wait until you see her. It should be easy to tell at that point.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Harry muttered dejectedly as he turned to head indoors for the night.
“Harry?” Tyler called after him.
Harry stopped and turned around. “What?”
“Do you want that photo?”
Harry thought for a second before responding, “Not particularly. It doesn’t sound like I’ll ever be getting back together with her, and if this girl I’ve been dreaming about is real, I imagine I’ll be focused on trying to get her to notice me. Why?”
“Er, would you mind if- Could I have it then?” Tyler asked, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I mean, she is really pretty. Plus, it’s way cool to have a photo that moves.”
Harry shrugged. “Sure, mate,” he said with a laugh as he handed over the picture. It appeared that Cho Chang had just found herself a Muggle admirer.