The next morning, Harry trudged lazily and exhaustedly down the stairs. There were large, dark baggy circles under his eyes. He’d stayed up most of last night trying to remember, but he found it hard to concentrate. Not to mention, remembering the ‘old fashion way’ made him feel nauseous. He wished that there were some way for him to go back in time and stop whoever the person was who took his memory away. Then he’d have his memory, and he’d probably be happy.
Life at the Weasley home was great, but it was awkward. Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley’s tried to make Harry feel at home, and they made sure to fill him in about everything.
The only person who wasn’t trying to make Harry feel welcome was Ginny. In fact, she didn’t even bother speaking to him. She always turned away from him when he tried to start a conversation.
“Harry, are you okay?”
Ron, who looked worried, wrenched Harry from his thoughts. Harry looked up and smiled weakly.
“I’m fine,” he said in a false cheery voice, “I was just thinking.”
“Oh,” said Ron slowly, “Well, if you want, Hermione, Ginny, and I are going to play Quidditch. You probably don’t remember this, but you’re excellent at flying and Quidditch. In fact, after I explain the rules to you, you should be able to play pretty well. You’re a natural.”
Harry’s ears perked up at the sound of Ginny’s name, and he nodded. “That would be great, Ron.”
Harry followed Ron out into the yard behind the Burrow. Hermione and Ginny were already out in the back, and both of them held broomsticks in their hands. As soon as Ginny saw Harry, she turned away and divulged in a deep conversation with Hermione. Ron looked knowingly at Harry.
“I’m going to take a few minutes to explain Quidditch to Harry,” Ron called to the girls, “And then we can play!”
Hermione nodded, and Ron turned to Harry. “Quidditch is easy enough to understand at first, even if it’s not that easy to play your first time around. But don’t be too worried, you were the captain of the team in our sixth year, and you were the youngest seeker to play for Gryffindor in a century. There are three chasers on a team, and they try to score with the red ball through the hoops. Then there’s a beater who tries to hit these black balls around….”
Harry nodded, and Ron continued to explain the rest of the rules to Harry. When he was finished, he found Harry an old broom, which once belonged to one of Ron’s many brothers.
Harry cautiously mounted the broomstick, and stood still, waiting for Ron to instruct him on how to fly. Ron was already up in the air, along with Ginny and Hermione, who looked slightly uncomfortable so high up in the air.
“Just kick off the ground steadily,” called Ron from thirty or so feet over Harry’s head.
Harry nodded and nervously kicked off. The broom rose swiftly and steadily into the air, and Harry held on tightly. Flying felt wonderful. He felt like he was truly at home, even though he was almost twenty feet off the ground.
“Blimey, you’re pretty good,” said Ron, “I mean, it took Hermione nearly an hour to do just that.”
Harry, who found he somehow knew exactly what to do, turned his broom slightly so he could see Ginny. She was an excellent flyer. Harry watched her for a moment, admiring the way her red hair dangled behind her as she raced through the air.
“You ready to play?” asked Ron loudly, who seemed to enjoy being in charge.
Everyone stopped flying, and turned their brooms around to face him. Harry hovered and waited for Ron’s instructions.
“Harry and Hermione versus Ginny and I,” said Ron.
They all nodded and took off. Harry found it hard to follow the game at first, but after a few minutes, he caught on perfectly. Ron had told him that he played Seeker on the Gryffindor team, and that he’d been captain in his sixth year, so he couldn’t be too bad at this.
After almost two and a half hours, the four of them agreed to end the game. Harry and Hermione had won by a landslide, mostly because Ginny determinedly flew far away from Harry, even if he posed a threat to her team.
Harry found himself out of breath and exhausted, but very pleased. Quidditch was one thing he knew right off that he wouldn’t have a problem with in the coming days.
As soon as the game was over, Ron immediately engaged in a deep conversation with Hermione, leaving Ginny and Harry standing around awkwardly. She watched them without interest, then sat on the ground, looking everywhere but at Harry. He took a deep breath, and trudged over to her, smoothing his hair down in the back self-consciously.
“Good game,” he said quietly when he reached her.
She jumped when she heard him, but she didn’t say anything. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when she looked up curiously.
“Yes,” she mumbled, after a moment. “You’re pretty good.”
Harry smiled when he heard her speak. She had a pretty voice.
“Listen, Ginny. I’m not exactly sure what happened between us before, but whatever I did that was wrong, I’m sorry. I just want to know why you’ve been avoiding me.” Harry said, determined to find out why she acted like he was a complete stranger.
“I-I missed you,” she said softly, without looking into his eyes. “When you were gone, I mean. I missed having you around.”
“I missed you too,” he said, even though it wasn’t fully true. “Well, at least I did after I got your letter.”
She smiled softly, “I’m not even sure why I sent that, because I thought you wouldn’t get it.”
“If you hadn’t of sent it I wouldn’t be here,” said Harry, “because it was something about your letter that made me want to write back.”
“It must have been terrible, being stuck at the Leaky Cauldron with nowhere to go and no idea what happened to you.”
“It was.” said Harry, “I couldn’t remember anything, and I kept having these weird visions.”
Ginny nodded, and looked off into the distance.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” Harry asked again, “Because I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“It’s not you,” she said, “I-I’m just kind of…I don’t know.”
“You can tell me.” he said gently, glad that they were making progress.
“How do I know that, Harry?” she asked, tears forming gently in the corners of her eyes. “You don’t even remember me! You’re not the same person that you were before you lost your memory. You’re different now.”
Harry didn’t say anything for a moment. She was right, he wasn’t the same person anymore. Not that he was sure exactly who he was before he lost his memory, but he knew he was different in the pit of his stomach.
“You’re right,” he said in a defeated voice, “but you don’t know for sure exactly who I am now. We could try to be friends again, if you want to. After all, Ron and Hermione seem fine with me. They don’t seem to mind that I’m different. I just want to go back to being the same person I was before all this started.”
“I know,” Ginny sat back on the ground. “but you have to understand, Harry, it’s different for me. I spent so many years trying to get you to notice me, but you didn’t even look my way until last year. And now you don’t even remember any of it. Everything would be like starting over again. I’m not sure I could deal with that.”
“I’m sorry.” he said gently.
“It’s not your fault,” Ginny turned away from him, and twiddled with her thumbs. “You didn’t lose your memory on purpose. It’ll be better when you get your memory back again.”
“Ginny?” said Harry slowly, trying not to be too harsh. “McGonagall doesn’t think I will get it back. She told me it would be pretty hard considering we don’t even know who did it.”
Ginny fell silent for a moment. , “I guess I knew that all along. My mum didn’t think there was much hope either.”
“Neither did I,” said Harry.
“You don’t really get it, Harry. How would you feel if someone you liked suddenly disappeared, and then came back without any memory of you?”
“I-I’d probably feel the same way you do,” mumbled Harry truthfully.
“But you’re right, it’s not your fault.” said Ginny, “So I’ll just have to accept that.”
“So are we good then?” Harry asked hopefully, wishing they could be friends again.
“I guess so,” said Ginny, “After all, it’s not like there’s anything anyone can do about it.”
“Ginny?” Harry asked softly after a moment. He liked the sound of her name.
“Yeah, Harry?” she asked, looking up at him.
“I’m glad I wrote that letter back to you. If I hadn’t, I’d probably be back at the Leaky Cauldron. Then I wouldn’t have gotten to meet Ron, Hermione, and…you.” said Harry truthfully.
She smiled, the widest Harry remembered seeing her smiled since he arrived. “Me too, Harry.”
“Harry! Ron! It’s time to wake up!”
Harry rolled over in his bed and blinked his eyes sleepily. It was several days after his conversation with Ginny, and he’d been happier ever since. Not only did she talk to him on occasion now, but also she was more pleasant in towards everyone in the house.
“What does she want now?” muttered Ron sleepily, pulling his blanket over his head.
“I dunno,” said Harry, but he didn’t make a move to get out of bed either.
“HARRY! RON!”
Harry pulled himself out of bed, picked up his glasses, and looked at himself in the mirror. Then he pulled the shade on the window open. Sunlight flooded through the room, making him blink.
“I wonder what she wants,” said Ron, his voice muffled by the blanket. “Maybe it’s breakfast time.”
At this thought, Ron pulled back his blanket and climbed out of bed. His hair was tangled and messy in his face, and he had a slightly grumpy look on his face that made Harry snicker.
“What, Mum?” Ron called down the stairs to the parlor, “Is it time for breakfast?”
“No,” came his mother’s voice, “The Minister of Magic is going to be here in ten minutes…and he wants to talk with Harry!”
Harry felt his stomach turn over several times. The Minister of Magic wanted to meet him? Suddenly aware of how stupid he looked in his pajamas and bare feet, Harry rushed to put on some suitable clothes. Ron watched in amusement as he tried to put on his pants inside out.
“Honestly, Harry. You don’t have to be so excited. You don’t even like the Minister that much. Last time I checked, you said he needed to be replaced immediately.”
Harry still felt the need to pat his hair down in the back, before looking at himself quickly in the mirror, and stomping down the stairs. Mrs. Weasley was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, and she held a wet comb in one hand and a plate of breakfast for Harry in the other hand. She handed Harry the plate, and he began to eat as fast as he could.
“What does he want to talk to me about?” asked Harry between bites, “I mean, I already told McGonagall as much as I could.”
“I’m afraid Rufus Scrimgeour holds quite a bit more power than Minerva,” said Mrs. Weasley, “He’ll want to know the facts for himself, I suppose. Just to warn you, Harry, he might try to recruit you to raise everyone’s spirits about the war. He tried that quite a bit last year, and now that you’re back without your memory, he’ll want to check and see if your views have changed.”
Harry nodded. This was quite a bit more complicated than he thought it would be.
“So, he wants me to recount exactly what happened to me?” Harry asked, feeling quite glum at the thought of this.
“I suppose he’ll ask you for that, but I don’t think he’ll press you for the details. No, I think you’ll be fine if you tell him the big parts. He shouldn’t care all that much otherwise. Don’t worry, Harry. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
As soon as she said that, there was a small steady knock on the front door. Mrs. Weasley hastened to open it without question, and a very old, tired looking man stepped through the front door. Harry thought he looked rather odd at first. He’d imagined a much more pompous and serious looking person to arrive at the door. Rufus Scrimgeour was neither of these. He slouched a great deal, and his hair was messy and uncombed. Harry felt stupid standing around in his nice clothes.
“Welcome, Minister,” said Mrs. Weasley, a flustered look on her face. “No trouble getting here, I presume?”
“No, No trouble at all.” said the Minister, setting his eyes on Harry. “Actually it was quite nice. This is quite a nice, erm, house you have here.”
Harry knew right off that he did not like the Minister very much. He had a gleam in his eyes that made Harry feel like he was a fish in a small glass fishbowl.
“Well, Harry.” said Scrimgeour, “I have to say that I’m glad to see you. You have no idea how much trouble I’ve been having trying to find you.”
“It’s nice to see you too, Minister,” said Harry politely, although he was lying through his teeth. He could tell in the pit of his stomach that he did not like the Minister at all.
Scrimgeour seemed to be able to tell that Harry didn’t particularly like him very much. “No hard feelings from last year I presume, right Harry?”
“Yeah, no hard feelings.” said Harry. “Not that I can remember last year at all.”
“Ah yes! I almost forgot,” said Scrimgeour, although Harry could tell he did no such thing. “Shall we begin then?”
“Okay,” said Harry, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Scrimgeour took a seat beside him and looked at Harry expectantly.
“Well, I woke up at the beginning of the summer and I couldn’t remember anything…” Harry continued through his very uncomfortable story, as both Scrimgeour and Mrs. Weasley listened intently. He made sure to skip over the most awkward and unnecessary parts of his story.
When he was done, Scrimgeour whistled, “That’s quite a story, Harry.”
“Yes,” said Harry, who didn’t know what else to say.
Scrimgeour turned to Mrs. Weasley. “How do we know he’s really Harry Potter? Have you checked to make sure he’s not an imposter.”
“Naturally, we did the best we could do. It’s kind of hard to be too specific, considering the fact that he claims his memory is gone.” Mrs. Weasley said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
“Have you tried to identity spell?” Scrimgeour asked, as though Mrs. Weasley should have known.
“The what?” she asked, “I’m sorry, Minister, I’ve never heard of the identity spell.”
For an answer, Scrimgeour pointed his long, thin wand at Harry. “Appello”
Harry felt a wisp of air pass through him, and to his surprise, silvery letters formed in the air just beside his face. It took only a second for the word to be finished, and in front of them hung the words: Harry Potter.
“How did you do that?” asked Harry slowly, wondering how that was possible.
“The Aurors at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement recently created this spell. It’s still in the process of being Ministry of Magic approved.” Scrimgeour hastily stowed his wand back in his pocket. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about me using unapproved spells on people. I might get into a spot of trouble if you did.”
“That’s okay, Minister,” said Mrs. Weasley, “That’s quite a spell you have there.”
“Yes, it’s quite useful when handling imposters and Death Eaters,” said Scrimgeour. “Especially now. I’ll be quite happy when the spell is approved and our Aurors can start using it on the prisoners in Azkaban, and any other suspected Death Eaters. It can also identify people under the Polyjuice Potion.”
Harry made a mental note to remember to write down Appello on his list of spells that he already knew.
“Minister,” he asked suddenly, struck with an idea. “Have the Aurors invented any new spells that could help me get my memory back?”
“Unfortunately, they haven’t.” said Scrimgeour. “It takes quite a while to invent a spell, Harry. I’ll make sure I add ‘Memory Return’ to their list as soon as I can.”
Harry nodded, “Thanks.”
“Meanwhile, Harry, I have a favor to ask you.” said the Minister.
“Sure,” said Harry unenthusiastically, although he had a feeling of dread that he knew what the Minister was about to ask. “Whatever you want.”
“Would you mind doing a Daily Prophet interview? It would be ever so helpful if you could make a public announcement about your return to the Wizarding World. If you’d like, I can send an exclusive Daily Prophet reported over to do a story on you. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble if you could do a quick, say five minute, interview? It would be on the front page, and from a much better angle than those other stories speculating on what could have happened to the ‘Boy Who Lived’.”
“Okay,” said Harry, who was looking forward a little to an interview. After all, he couldn’t remember ever having an interview, or even being in a paper.
“That would be great.” said the Minister, and he sat a little taller. “I’m sure everyone has been really worried about you since you disappeared. It’s actually quite extraordinary how you managed to find your way back here.”
“Yes it is,” said Harry wistfully, his mind still on Ginny.
Author’s Note: I hope this chapter wasn’t too mushy. I tried not to make Ginny and Harry’s conversation too dramatic. Also, the word ‘Appello’ is Latin for the word name. Don’t forget to submit reviews!