Harry lay on his bed exhaustedly, Ginny’s letter lying next to him. The spell book that he’d bought in the store lie in front of him, and his eyes were glazed as he tried to memorize all of the spells in the book. Harry was amazed that there were so many in the book. He couldn’t imagine how on earth he was supposed to know all of them.
He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the battered, broken chair in the corner. He flipped to a random page, and picked out a random spell: Reducto.
Even though he had no idea what the spell did, and not bothering to look it up in the back of book, Harry raised his wand. “Reducto!”
The chair in front of him blasted apart. Within seconds, it was reduced to splinters on the floor. Harry jumped to his feet, surprised. Reducto was definitely the most damaging spell that he’d tried so far. Sighing, he walked over to the corner and pointed his wand at the splintered pieces.
“Reparo,” he muttered, using one of the few most helpful spells in the book.
The chair was returned to its original state, and Harry once again dwelled for a moment on the fact of how amazing this was. He made a note on his piece of parchment about Reducto, and flipped to another random page in his book. His parchment was almost full of spells, and he would soon have to find another scrap of parchment somewhere.
Another spell caught his eye, and he hastened to point his wand at the chair. “Wingardium Leviosa!”
Nothing happened to the chair, and Harry was slightly surprised. All of the spells, excluding Expecto Patronum, had worked for him. He’d been expecting it to work, because the book he found it in was so…reliable.
Caught by his interest in the spell, Harry decided that he’d revert to his old tactic for finding spells, in order to find out what Wingardium Leviosa did. Harry closed his eyes slowly, and braced himself for the new memory.
He was in a bathroom that was covered in water, as well as shattered glass and wood. A tall, gangly red-haired boy with freckles crouched in the corner, picking up wood and throwing it at a large troll-like creature. A bushy, brown-haired girl hid frightened in the corner by a sink, screaming as the troll swung a club around the bathroom. Struck by a sudden pulse of courage, Harry ran and jumped on the troll’s back. Surprised, it shook itself, trying to get Harry off.
The red-haired boy shivered, and Harry could see courage in his eyes. He took out his wand.
“Swish and Flick,” the boy muttered under his breath, raising his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa!”
The troll attempted to swing the club again, but he found this hard due to fact that his club was suspended in place over his head. After a moment of hovering, the club fell, striking the troll on the head with a sickening thud.
Harry shook himself until he was fully awake, and tried to recall what he’d just pulled from his mind. The red-haired boy had said specifically to “swish and flick” before he performed the spell. Harry silently swished and flicked his wand identical to the way the red-haired boy had.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” Harry shouted louder than he meant to, while making sure he swished and flicked.
The chair rose a couple of feet off the ground, and hovered there. Harry smirked, glad that he’d figured out the spell. After a moment or two, the chair crashed to the floor, landing on its side. Harry continued to flip through the book, and after another hour or two, he concluded that he’d learned enough spells for the day.
Harry picked up Ginny’s letter slowly, and reread it. Even though he knew that there was absolutely no way for him to get it to her, he pulled out a piece of parchment and began writing her a letter. However, to his great disappointment, he found this absolutely hopeless. Not only did he know nothing about Ginny, Ron or Hermione, but he knew almost nothing about himself as well.
“Trying to write a letter, are we?”
Harry groaned out loud. He’d been so used to nothing in his brain except his own thoughts, and he was extremely and thoroughly miserable at the sound of the voice’s sneer.
“That’s none of your business!” Harry snarled, anger in his voice and words.
“You don’t even know who you are, do you?” sneered the voice, amusement and disdain clean its voice.
“Why don’t you just tell me then?”
The voice was silent for a moment, then spoke in a softer, more gentle voice, “I-I can’t, I won’t!”
Harry felt that he was breaking beyond an important barrier, so he pondered his next words carefully. “I need to know,”
The voice seemed to be pondering over what Harry had said, and Harry was surprised when the voice whispered quickly and meaningfully to him. “There is something you need to know…”
Harry listened intently, slightly taken aback by the sudden turn of events. There was a noise like a plunger being removed from a sink, and the voice gave a startled cry before going silent.
“H-Hello?” Harry called out, aware that no one could hear him. “What do I need to know?”
There was no answer.
After several minutes of silent listening, Harry concluded that the voice was no longer speaking to him. He decided to stop dwelling on the voice and his lost memories, and he trudged downstairs to the main lobby. Upon his arrival, he walked over to the barman at the counter.
The barman gave him an irritated glance, as though talking to Harry would be most painful. Harry gave him a weak smile.
“Do you know anything about Harry Potter?” Harry asked directly, having no idea what on earth prompted him to ask such an unusual question.
The barman seemed perfectly unperturbed by the question, and he pulled a newspaper out from under the counter and tossed it at Harry. “Of course I do. I’m surprised you don’t. He’s only had more cover stories than any other living boy.” He spoke very quickly, as though he was tired of talking to Harry already.
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d had more cover stories than any other living boy? But-But why would anybody care about him?
Harry took the newspaper, thanked the barman, and wandered over to an empty chair to read it. He was stunned by the front-page article: Harry Potter Now Missing For Several Months.
Stunned and astounded, Harry read through the rest of the article. But who had told the paper that he was missing? Surely not the Dursleys? Harry stared at the cover of the paper, and at his face, which occupied the front. There was something about his portrait on the newspaper that was different. He recognized himself only after a moment of hesitation, even though his traits were exactly the same. Harry wandered over to a mirror, and stared at his reflection. What he saw was himself, but there was something changed about him.
After a moment or two of reading and rereading the paper, Harry noticed something he hadn’t caught sight of before: the pictures were moving on their own accord. Several of the pictures of himself were grinning awkwardly, and the other pictures of strange creatures and humans alike were doing various activities in the pictures.
Harry groaned inwardly, and stuffed the paper in his pocket. This was going to be more complicated than he thought. Every time he searched for answers, all he received were a thousand more dead end clues.
“Ronald Weasley!”
Ron sat up in his bed at the sound of his full name. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, and looked up at his sister, Ginny, and Hermione. Both of them were glaring at him, and Ginny had her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of Mrs. Weasley’s signature scowl.
“What?” he asked them both, wondering why on earth they woke him so late at night.
In response, Hermione pointed her wand at the curtains. They pulled themselves open, filling the room with bright sunlight. Ron blinked.
“It’s already noon!” smirked Ginny, “Everyone else in your dormitory is already up!”
“Why didn’t anyone wake me?” Ron gaped, “I’m late for all of my classes!”
Hermione frowned at him. “Didn’t you know it’s the weekend?”
Ginny smirked at Ron, but then her eyes wandered over to the empty, neatly folded bed next to Ron. It was Harry’s. Ginny felt her eyes well up with tears, and she hastened to wipe them away before Ron could see her cry.
“We’re going after him,” Ginny muttered just loud enough for Ron to hear.
Ron gave her a confused look, so Hermione continued, “You know we have to, Ron. Besides, we can both Apparate now, so we shouldn’t have any trouble getting around.”
Ron seemed lost for words for a second, then he gaped at Hermione. “But-But how? I mean, we can’t just leave! If the Aurors can’t find him, how are we going to? Besides, I thought you said that Harry didn’t want to be found.”
“I think we’ll have a better chance now. After all, we know Harry better than anyone,” Hermione glanced at Ginny. “And I think that even if Harry doesn’t want to be found, we should go after him to make sure he’s safe.”
“All right,” said Ron in a defeated voice, “When are we leaving?”
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other, and answered together, “Tonight. Now pack your bags!”
“But how are we going to carry our things?”
Hermione sighed. “Honestly, Ron. I’m going to bewitch the bags to be feather light.”
“And how are we gong to get out of here? There’s a ton of security, and you can’t Apparate inside Hogwarts!” Ron looked smugly at Hermione, obviously pleased that he remembered.
Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron in annoyance. “We’ll take our brooms until we get to the front gate. Then we’ll Apparate,”
Ron nodded. “Where are we going to start looking?”
“We thought we’d try Diagon Alley,” said Hermione nervously.
“Diagon Alley! Harry’s not going to be wandering around in plain sight!” Ron laughed in spite of himself.
“But someone there might have some idea of where he is, or where he’s been. I doubt that he’s been away from human contact completely, so we’re most likely to find out something about where he is.”
“What will we tell Mum and Dad?” Ron asked Ginny, “Are we going to leave notes or something, because they’ll be nervous about both of us leaving.”
“Since when are you so sensitive to other people’s feelings?” said Hermione smugly.
Ginny pretended to ignore her, but Ron could see her smirking, “We’ll make sure we leave them notes.”
“All right,” said Ron.
Harry sat on his bed and gazed lazily out of the smudged window. He wished that there was some way for him to figure out what happened to him. He wished that there was some way for him to figure out exactly what kind of magic he could use. He wished he could figure out what was really happening, and why it was happening to him. He wished that he could find out who he was.
His eyes wandered over to the crumbled letter by the rubbish letter. It was the letter he’d tried writing to Ginny. He ripped off a corner of it, and began to scrawl a quick note.
Dear Ginny,
I’m fine. I’m at the Leaky Cauldron. Please don’t worry about me. Tell Ron and Hermione not to worry either.
He knew it was short, and hardly told anything important, but he felt that he needed to tell Ginny that he was all right, that he was okay. He folded the letter neatly, and walked over to Hedwig. She blinked and snapped her beak, screeching loudly.
“Bring this to Ginny,” murmured Harry, even though he knew it was absolutely no use talking to an owl. “Make sure she knows I’m fine.”
Hedwig blinked twice, and for a moment Harry had the strangest feeling that she’d understood him. He opened the window, and she screeched again. Then she spread her wings, flapping widely, and soared out the open window. Harry waved after her, feeling the last drops of hope restored in him. If there was any way to find out what had happened to him, he knew that Ginny was his last hope.
As he watched Hedwig soar away, he wondered why he trusted Ginny more than he trusted Ron. After all, Ron had sent him a letter first. Harry guessed that his trust in Ginny was some remnant of a memory that he’d lost. After a few minutes, Harry felt himself fall asleep.
He raced through the air on a nimble broomstick. He could feel the air rush past him. Blood was pounding in his ears as lightning flashed above him. Thunder split the sky, and he felt the joy of flying run through him.
He swooped and dove around a huge arena, which had thousands of fans yelling from the stands. He looked down at himself, and saw that he was wearing a long scarlet robe. The arena had at least fifteen people flying around on broomsticks, all of them either wearing robes identical to Harry’s, or mustard yellow robes.
A quick flying golden ball with silver wings fluttered in front of his face. He tried desperately to catch it, trying to see past the storm of rain that surrounded him. His glasses were fogged something terrible, blocking just about everything that wasn’t within two or three feet from his face.
Suddenly, the happiness was sucked out of the air. He gasped quickly for breath, and found that he could hardly breathe. His breath felt icy and it made little clouds of air whenever he let out a breath. Dark figures in long hoods swooped around him, making the air colder and more distant.
He could hear screams in the distance. It was a woman, and she was screaming at the top of her lungs. He could hear her as though she was directly next to him, and every time she screamed, his blood ran cold.
The black figures came closer, and the screams rang louder in his ears. The air was swallowing him up, and he felt himself loose consciousness. He was falling…down…down…down…
Screams from the woman inside his head mingled with the screams of the spectators and echoed in his ears as he plummeted towards the ground, his broom close behind him.
Harry awoke suddenly, feeling extremely clammy and cold. He was sprawled out on his bed, once again drenched in sweat. He breathed in the air around him as though it was comforting and warm. He pulled his blanket over his head.
Knock, Knock
Harry vaguely recognized that someone was at the door. He pulled himself out of bed, and wiped some of the sweat off his forehead. He stumbled over to the door and pulled it open slowly. There was no one behind the door. Harry looked around the hallway. It was only after he looked down that he realized that there was an envelope on the floor directly behind his door.
Harry bent down to pick it up, and he glanced up and down the hallway one last time to make sure that there wasn’t anybody there. When safely back in his room, he tore the top of the envelope of, and dumped its contents onto his bed.
A long letter fell onto his bed, and Harry hastened to pick it up. Wondering why on earth it didn’t arrive from an owl, he unfolded it slowly. It was a long bill, detail on all of the dues he had to pay for his room at the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry sighed loudly. He set down the letter, and as he did, a note fell out from behind it:
Withdraw from Gringotts Bank
If you would like to withdraw from Gringotts Bank in order to pay for this purchase, please fill out the appropriate form. Your money should be mailed to you by owl immediately upon its acceptance.
Harry’s eyes traveled down the form, and he hastened to find something to write with among his few possessions in the room. He made sure he filled out everything on the note.
He knew it was stupid to request money from a Wizard bank, but he had a very shrewd suspicion that he actually did have money there. In fact, the only reason he believed that was because the voice said that he didn’t have any money there.
He also knew he was taking a slight risk. If for some reason, the Dursleys wanted him back, he didn’t want to make it too easy for them to find him again. He’d promised himself when he escaped that he was never, ever going back to the Dursleys, and he was never going back to Kinselton.
Since Hedwig was out delivering his letter to Ginny, he was forced to go back down to the lobby to mail the letter. It was getting to be quite late at night, so he walked quietly down to hall, so he wouldn’t wake anyone who was sleeping in their room.
It didn’t take him long to get downstairs, and he didn’t want to disturb the barman again, so he stopped a friendly looking woman.
“Where can I mail a letter?” he asked.
“Just down the road at Eeylops Owl Emporium. They sell owls and you can rent some of the owls to send mail. I suggest that you buy your own owl if your going to be mailing a lot of stuff though,” the woman smiled at him, and continued on her way.
Harry spent the rest of the evening at the Owl Emporium, and after mailing his letter and examining some of the foreign owls, he set off for the Leaky Cauldron.
Author’s Note: I know a lot of people want to know why Harry hasn’t been recognized yet. After all, he is on the front cover of the Prophet. To answer your questions, something (or someone) placed a spell on Harry. It was a complicated piece of magic that makes him only recognizable after you’ve been staring at him for a while. Since everyone in Diagon Alley is too busy to bother to stare at a stranger walking down the street for more than a few seconds, Harry has little chance of being recognized. In fact, Harry himself thought he looked considerably different.