Hermione looked nervously at Ron, who nodded, before clearing her throat and taking a deep, long breath.
“I know this is going to be a lot to take in,” she said exasperatedly, “but try to understand that it’s the best that I can do.”
Harry nodded slowly, waiting for her to begin the story of his life. Something inside his heart leapt, and he felt truly happy for the first time in awhile.
“I guess you already know this, but you’re a wizard, Harry. We, all four of us and about one thousand other kids, go to a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This would be your seventh year there, if you’d come this year, which is the last year at Hogwarts. I-I don’t know for sure if you know this but you’re famous for surviving an attack from the darkest wizard of all time. Not to mention, you rescued the Sorcerer’s Stone, you saved Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets, you rescued Sirius from the Dementors, you won the Triwizard Tournament, you saved us all in the Department of Mysteries, and you helped Dumbledore find that fake Horcrux.”
Harry creased his brow in confusion, but didn’t say anything. Hermione took a moment’s pause, before she spoke again.
“I don’t know what the Dursleys told you about your parents, so I’m going to try my best to explain everything I know. It all started when you were one year old. Your parents, Lily and James Potter, fought Voldemort, a dark wizard who used to be named Tom Riddle. On Halloween, he broke into your house and….and killed them. It was really terrible, and your house was in shambles, but you survived. You weren’t supposed to, but you did. When Voldemort tried to curse you with Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse, it somehow bounced off you and hit him. But he couldn’t die, so he just sort of turned into a…I don’t know what exactly. Dumbledore used to say that he was less than a ghost, but still alive somehow.”
Harry sat through the rest of the story of his life as still and stiff as a board. Not wanting to coax any new memories out of his mind during her speech, he also made sure he didn’t dwell on any of the facts or even try to remember any of them. Even just trying to remember his real family or real past could cause him to have another memory vision.
He sat and watched as Hermione stuttered and stumbled over the most painful of the parts, like Sirius and Dumbledore’s deaths, while Harry didn’t feel any pain at all from her words. He sat and watched as Hermione shuddered every time she spoke about Voldemort, or the Prophecy that had marked Harry as ‘The Chosen One’.
Almost a full two hours later, Hermione was finished with the story of Harry’s past. He felt his head spinning, and he tried to grasp all of what she’d said. Both Ron and Hermione looked at him, and he tried to say something but found he didn’t have any words to say. Ginny remained silent, and Harry felt sorry for her. The most awkward part of Hermione’s story was the part where she’d told him about him and Ginny.
According to Hermione, he’d broken up with her at Dumbledore’s funeral for some reason. Harry would have suggested that she ask Ginny, but Ginny seemed to be purposely avoiding all of their eyes. Harry also noticed Ron turn a little red.
“Harry?” said Hermione softly, abruptly waking Harry from his thoughts. “Are-Are you okay? You look a little…sick.”
“I’m fine,” said Harry, although he felt a little bit dizzy. “I’m just a little””
“”shocked?” finished Ron, who sounded a little flabbergasted himself.
Harry nodded, and smoothed his hair over his scar impulsively. He stole a glance at Ginny, who still looked lost in thought.
“So…what now?” asked Harry slowly, “I mean, where are we going to go? Is there anywhere for us to go?”
“Well, it’s almost the Holiday break, so we might as well go home,” said Hermione slowly, “Because I doubt that you’d be able to handle school at the moment.”
Harry nodded. He didn’t even want to think about the prospect of having to return to his old school, at least not until he got his memory back. This thought made another question pop into his head.
“Do any of you understand what happened to me? Is there anyway for me to magic my memory back?” he asked tentatively, dreading their answer.
“I’m pretty sure that someone cast a Memory charm on you, although the effects of yours is different. Only a powerful or very skilled wizard could have cast it perfectly so that you only remember up to the time you were ten years old. And I don’t think it was by accident. Someone is trying to sabotage you, and the war against Voldemort.” Hermione said slowly, pondering his question. “As for getting your memory back, I’m not really sure what can be done. It may be possible for you to get some of it back, but it might be hard to get all of it back. You may just have to rely on our memories for your past.”
Harry nodded as he listened carefully to his fate. Somewhere, in the bottom of his stomach, he knew that he probably would not get his memory back. His heart sunk lower than it had been since he’d met Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.
“So basically I’m stuck like this for awhile.” said Harry glumly after a moment or two.
Ron nodded. “Cheer up, Harry. We’ll get you to Mum, and she can contact McGonagall. There are lots of great wizards in the world, I’m sure someone knows how to return a memory.”
“Shall I go get my things then?” Harry asked, not wanting to spend another moment in the bleak inn. “I don’t have much, just a wand, some clothes, and an owl.”
“Well then,” said Hermione, “we can leave as soon as you’re ready.”
Harry felt strange walking to his room, knowing it would be the last time that he’d do so. It was amazing to him how he woke up thinking it would be another boring, uneventful day. It only took him less than ten minutes to get everything he owned together, and when he was done, he dragged it back down to the main lobby.
“How exactly are we going to get there?” he asked once he was back at the coffee table. “I mean, before I found away to magic myself away, but I don’t think I could do it again. It was like being suffocated alive.” he shuddered.
“You probably Apparated,” smiled Hermione smugly, looking at Ron. “And I think that is the way we’d be getting there. But don’t worry, you can do side-along with Ron.”
“I just hope I don’t splinch myself,” muttered Ron under his breath, just barely loud enough for Harry to hear.
Harry almost asked him what splinching was, but he had a strange suspicion that he didn’t really want to know.
“You ready?” asked Hermione briskly, pulling out a long, thin wand.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny nodded. Ginny stood, her eyes avoiding Harry, and grabbed Hermione’s arm. Hermione looked at Harry, and he hastened to grab Ron’s arm as well.
The strange sensation of being squeezed by a thousand rubber bands ran over him again, and he held his breath in for as long as he could. After a second or two, although it felt like several minutes, Harry felt he could breath again. The air felt good and fresh in his lungs, unlike the smoggy air around the inn.
They were outside a shabby but comfortable looking home, which was quite alone in the middle of a wooded field area. Ron and Ginny looked much happier at the sight of house, and Harry guessed that they lived there when they were not at the Wizard school.
“Shall we go inside?” asked Ron eagerly, and Hermione nodded.
Harry found himself slightly nervous and unconfident as he walked towards the house, and he hung back behind the rest of the group as they plowed ahead. Ron boldly pushed open the door, and walked inside.
“Mum it’s me!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the house. “Ginny and Hermione are here too….and a surprise!”
A plump woman who had the same red hair as Ron and Ginny appeared suddenly in the middle of the room, and for a moment Harry thought she looked quite surprised.
“Ronald! Don’t shout like that, you gave me a fright!” she exclaimed, although Harry noticed she looked happy to see them. “Don’t you ever even think about just leaving like that! I’ve been worried sick about you!”
Ron looked awkwardly at Hermione when Mrs. Weasley embraced both him and Ginny in a wide hug. When she was finished, she gave Hermione an equally wide hug. Hermione stepped aside, revealing Harry, and Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek that matched Ginny’s.
“Harry! You’re here! Where on earth have you been all this time?” she exclaimed, pulling him into a somewhat awkward hug. “We’ve been worried sick!”
“I…” Harry mumbled, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “I’m not really sure how to tell you this, but I don’t exactly remember you. In fact, I don’t remember anything from the time I was ten until a couple of months ago when I woke up at my Aunt and Uncle’s house. I’m not really sure what exactly happened to me.”
Mrs. Weasley opened and closed her mouth soundlessly for a moment or two, before looking questioningly at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They all nodded, and Ginny looked a little teary.
“Oh my gosh,” said Mrs. Weasley, obviously stunned and a little upset. “Is that why you’ve been gone all this time?”
Harry nodded, and Mrs. Weasley turned sharply towards Ron and Hermione. “How do you know he’s really Harry? He could be an imposter.”
“I know, but we couldn’t think of any good questions to ask him other than what his birthday is, and he knew that of course, but he doesn’t know enough because of his memory problem.”
Mrs. Weasley looked suspiciously at Harry for a moment, before her gaze softened. “You four must be starving! I’ll cook you up something before I contact Minerva. I’m sure she’d like to know where you’ve been all this time. And Arthur will want to know, of course. Oh, Harry, I can’t believe your back after all this time.”
When Mrs. Weasley turned around, Ron rolled his eyes and him, and Harry smiled a little. Ginny looked away.
After a few days, Harry felt very comfortable living with the Weasley family. Mrs. Weasley had insisted that Harry be left alone from everyone, except McGonagall, until he adjusted to his new life and new information about himself. Since McGonagall had meetings and a lot of work to do at Hogwarts, she was unable to meet with Harry until almost a week after his arrival at the Weasley home. He was able to meet Mr. Weasley, who was a red-haired man who looked a bit like Ron, and most of Ron’s older brothers. Fred and George were his favorites, other than Ron himself of course.
“Eat, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley insisted, watching Harry pick at his food. It was only an hour or so before the Headmistress of Hogwarts would be arriving at the Weasley home, and Mrs. Weasley firmly insisted that everything was perfectly in place for her visit.
“Mum, Harry’s going to blow up like a balloon if you don’t stop pushing so much food on him.” Ron pointed out, snickering under his breath. Hermione looked amused, but Ginny didn’t say anything.
Harry hadn’t heard Ginny say a word in front of him, and she avoided his gaze every time they were in the same room together. He’d already tried starting a conversation with her, but she’d turned away and mumbled something about “having more work to do”.
The last thing Harry wanted was to start off on the wrong foot with people he didn’t remember, but that remembered him. In fact, all he wanted to do was get his memory back so that he could understand everything that was happening to him, and understand who everyone was.
The banging on the front door awoke Harry from his thoughts. Mrs. Weasley hastened to open the door and, after making sure that it actually was McGonagall at the door, she pulled it open.
A strict looking teacher, who reminded Harry of Ms. Minerva, his teacher at Kinselton, walked in the front door. There were dark lines under her eyes and she looked exhausted. When she caught sight of Harry, she smiled grimly and sat down next to him.
“Hello, Potter,”
“Hullo,” said Harry slowly, acknowledging her presence. “Professor McGonagall.”
She nodded, and briskly continued. “So Potter, I hear you’ve had a little mishap. Well, why don’t you explain to me yourself? I’m afraid I only have bits a pieces of your story so far.”
“I-I’ve lost my memory, Professor. I’m not sure how it happened, but is there anyway for me to get it back? Because I really, really need to know what happened to me.”
She surveyed Harry carefully. “You seem different then you were before. I’m sorry, Potter, but I don’t think that there is anyway for you to get your memory back just yet. Of course, I’m going to work as hard as I can at this, but I can’t promise any results. We might be able to do something if we knew who cast the memory charm, but so far we don’t have any real leads.”
“So… there’s no hope?” Harry asked softly, “I mean, thanks anyway, but Professor, I need my memory back.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, “Really, I am.”
Harry closed his eyes and sat back in his chair, accepting his fate. His memory was never coming back, at least not for a while.