Chapter Two: Catching Up
I arrived with a pop in a circular white room, Kingsley at my side still gripping my good arm. There were two Aurors standing guard beside the only door leading out of the room, eyes hard and wands ready. I immediately pulled my arm out of Kingsley’s grasp; I didn’t need his help to stand. Kingsley strode forward confidently, nodding at the two Aurors who lowered their wands. I fell into step a few paces behind, looking at the floor trying to avoid the stares of the passing witches and wizards.
We walked along the dull white corridor in silence, rows of closed doors on both sides, until we reached a reception desk. A young witch with blonde hair was sat on a chair behind the desk, quill out and busily scribbling on a piece of parchment.
“Hi Katherine. I need a secure room and a senior healer for Mr Potter here, please,” Kingsley said quickly, “also, could you get in contact with the D.M.L.E and have them send over a protection team for the time being? Thanks”
The witch nodded, with her eyes slightly wide, and began studiously looking over one of her pieces of parchment. Her mannerisms reminded me distinctly of Hermione. With a slight start I realised I had no idea how Hermione was, or any of the others for that matter. All Kingsley had said was that they were still alive. I hadn’t even bothered to check how badly they were injured.
“Room 7 is free. It’s just down the corridor, 3rd on the left. I’ll send Healer Roberts there, he should be free.” she said, her eyes now lingering on my forehead.
Kingsley nodded his thanks and begun walking along the corridor, gesturing for me to follow. I complied, staying about two paces behind. My arm wasn’t bleeding anymore; the tea towel I’d used to bandage it had apparently stemmed the flow of blood.
We reached the room in question, and Kingsley pushed open the door and directed me to the only bed in the room whilst sitting down in a chair positioned next to the door. He calmly drew his wand and kept it to hand, seemingly ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice.
“Kingsley, what happened at the Department of Mysteries? The last thing I remember is being stunned by Bellatrix,” I asked, trying not to let the mild panic I felt show.
“You were stunned by Bellatrix Legrange?” he looked troubled, “Severus sent word to Headquarters as soon as he realised you had gone to the Department. Unfortunately, Sirius was the only person in Headquarters at that time; he immediately summoned aid before Flooing there himself. We got together as many people as we could and arrived there about ten minutes later. We found Sirius’ body in the Death Room and those of your friends who were still able to walk were frantically searching for you. That was a little over two weeks ago... You really don’t remember anything since then?”
“What date is it?” The panic was probably entering my voice now. Having lost nearly two weeks of time was seriously off-putting.
“Today’s date is the fifth of July,” came a familiar voice from the door. I looked up, slightly irritated, to the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore. At his side was a middle-aged man in green robes, who I assumed was Healer Roberts.
“Harry, I’m relieved to see that you’re alright. I’ve been informed that you’re miraculous appearance was not without mishap, however; further questioning can wait until you’ve been healed, yes?”
I nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak to him. I felt irrationally angry with him but I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because Sirius had died. I didn’t think it had quite settled in yet; there was a hollow part of me where I felt sure there should be grief, pain, anger...something.
Healer Roberts approached my bed and was peering at my shoulder, Kingsley and Dumbledore were having what looked like a rushed conversation just outside the door.
“Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing at my impromptu bandage.
“Sure,” I replied, wincing as he slowly un-wrapped my shoulder.
I looked on with detached curiosity as the healer scourgified my shoulder to remove the dried blood revealing that a chunk of flesh was missing, now scabbed over. It didn’t look pretty.
“How long ago did this happen?” the healer asked in confusion.
“About half an ago, give or take” I said, still peering at my shoulder.
“Well, this is odd. It seems to have completely scabbed over; it’s not bleeding. This was caused by a muggle shotgun?”
I nodded, personally feeling quite happy my body was no longer leaking.
The healer made a strange hrmmm noise that only those in the medical profession seemed capable of making, before prodding my shoulder gently with his wand immediately making it go numb.
“Perhaps the wound was cauterised by the heat from the weapon. I must admit to not having dealt with too many muggle weapon injuries, although one would expect a cauterisation to leave burns as well. No matter though; you’re extremely fortunate you didn’t lose consciousness due to blood loss. I’ll have to put you to sleep whilst we remove the pellets and apply some flesh-regrowing potions. After that a simple course of rejuvenation potions should suffice. You’re fortunate muggle inflicted injuries are relatively simple to fix, having said that, try not to get yourself shot again; I honestly have no idea how you remained standing after being shot at such close range.”
“I’ll try to avoid it in future, sir” I said, playing the part of the obedient schoolboy.
Dumbledore has re-entered the room and was looking at me curiously but remaining silent.
“Good. I’ll just put you to sleep and have your shoulder fixed in no time. Lie down, please.”
I complied. Roberts waved his wand over my face in smooth, circular motions and I found myself drifting off to a peaceful sleep.
I opened my eyes, I felt groggy. I was lying on a stone floor and there was a kink in my back. Strangely my right arm arched; it was my left shoulder that got shot. I looked around, everything was blurry. I found my glasses by my right hand and slipped them on. I sat up and looked around. I was in a large cavernous room. I couldn’t see my wand. It was dark and gloomy.
There was a large winged chair ahead with a light behind it; I got up walked towards it listening for any sounds of movement. The stone floor was cold against my feet; I didn’t have my shoes anymore. The pattering noise my feet made against the stone echoed around the room eerily.
The relative silence was punctuated by a cold laugh. The winged chair slowly swung round uncovering the bright light behind it, momentarily dazzling me. After a few seconds of staggering in panic I could see the silhouette of a tall shape in front of the chair through the blinding light. The figure’s eyes were glowing red, looking directly at me.
The icy voice cut right into my soul.
“Welcome, Harry Potter.”
I awoke with a start. I was lying on a soft bed and my right arm ached now. I could see fine; there was a soft, white light above me. I was still sweating from the nightmare and the sheets felt slightly damp. Kingsley was in quiet discussion with Dumbledore on a sofa beneath a large window I hadn’t noticed before. In the seat Kingsley was previously occupying sat Ron, his arms both bandaged. Hermione was pacing backward and forward just in front of the door seemingly unhurt. I glanced at my shoulder; it was now properly bandaged. I tried to move my left arm and was rewarded with a short stab of pain, but at least I could move it now.
“Harry!” Ron called, my movement seemingly having attracted his attention. Kingsley and Dumbledore ceased their conversation and looked at me as Ron ran over, grabbing me in a hug.
“It’s great to see you mate! Where have you been?”
Grunting as Ron stupidly grabbed my injured arm I shoved him off.
“Hey Ron, watch the arm mate?”
“Ah, sorry. Kingsley said a muggle got you with one of their gun thingies,” Ron said, seeming genuinely sorry. I didn’t get the impression his apology would prevent it from happening again in the future.
“Yeah. The bastard didn’t want to let me borrow his ph-”
“Harry! Watch your language,” Hermione interrupted. It was good to hear her voice, even if it was whining at me.
“Hey Hermione, how’ve you been?”
“How have I been? How have I been? Harry, you’ve been missing two weeks!” Hermione looked to be on the verge of tearing her hair out and her voice was steadily raising in pitch.
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been told. Unfortunately I don’t actually remember anything,”
“You mean you’ve been memory charmed?”
“I don’t know Hermione, if I’d been memory charmed I wouldn’t remember now would I?” I replied scathingly. It really was a pretty stupid question.
“That’s true,” Hermione continued, “but I bet there’s a way of finding out if you’ve been given a memory charm and lifting it. I bet there’s a whole section on memory modification in the library...”
I could practically see the part of her brain labelled ‘Research’ blinking away like a Christmas fairy on crack.
Resisting the urge to inform Hermione of my Christmas fairy theory, I looked up at Dumbledore who was looking at my eyes intently. I felt a small push at the front of my mind and instinctively pushed it back. Was he using legilimency on me? The look of mild surprise on his face seemed to indicate that yes, he was.
“Harry, I’m pleased to inform you that the repair work to your shoulder was completely successful. On the other hand, this matter of your missing memory does cause me some concern. Is there nothing you can tell us about the night you lead your friends to Department of Mysteries after you were sighted running into the Circle room?”
Dumbledore seemed to have given up reading my mind and instead reverted to the tried and tested method of asking me questions. I wasn’t sure why I found him so irritating, but I tried to suppress it. He was probably trying to make me feel guilty by reminding me I had lead my friends to the Department but it wasn’t working; my conscience was clean...relatively.
“I got cornered in the Death Room- I think that’s what Kingsley called it. A few Death Eaters came in and I tried to duel them, but I couldn’t really fight them off. Then Sirius appeared. He knocked Lucius Malfoy out and was duelling Bellatrix. She managed to defeat him. She used the Cruciatus curse on him until I surrendered my wand, then she killed him. I think she stunned me after that.” My voice didn’t shake. I didn’t find myself being angry or upset over what happened; I had accepted it.
Dumbledore looked old, his eyes had a slightly deadened look about them. Hermione had her hand covering her mouth in horror, Ron simply looked dumbfounded. Kingsley was staring at the floor. I was the only one seemingly unfazed by it.
“I’m so very sorry you had to experience that Harry. No one should ever have to witness such cruelty. I feel I quite badly failed you last year and I shall work hard to make up for my past mistakes. I promise you, Harry, next year I shall take a more personal role in your education. I have many things I have to explain to you.”
“Thank you, Sir” I still couldn’t seem to make myself care. The part of me that made me care about all these things seemed to be missing. Nothing mattered anymore and I didn’t know why.
“A matter of some concern is what took place in your memory blank. It would appear that you were captured, and somehow escaped sometime earlier today. How you came to be memory charmed I do not know. Healer Roberts examined you whilst you were asleep and found no major damage other than the wounds inflicted by the muggle weapon. You were checked to determine if you were under the Imperius curse, we found evidence of its use on you but it seems to have been resisted. You also have traces of repeated Cruciatus curses; it would be logical to assume that you were tortured under Lord Voldemort’s orders. How you came to escape is a most baffling enigma, but one for which I am eternally grateful.”
In other words, Dumbledore didn’t have a clue about anything.
“What about the Prophecy, Sir?” I at least wanted to know what all of the fighting was about.
“Ah, Harry. I shall explain that to you at the start of the next school year. It is a matter of the highest importance, but something for which you deserve to hear in private and a more comfortable setting. I assure you I will tell you everything. As for the prophecy globe which you gallantly attempted to stop Lord Voldemort from capturing, I’m afraid no trace of it has been found, so it must be assumed that Lord Voldemort managed to capture the Prophecy.”
More assumptions, all he had were assumptions, guesses and hopes.
“Right.” What more was there for me to say? I noticed a candle on my bedside table was leaving a circular pattern of coloured wax; blue concentric rings surrounding a green central circle. I was hypnotised by it, staring into the rings trying to discern some deeper meaning.
“Harry?” Shaken out of my reverie, I looked up at Dumbledore’s face. “I have other news you should be made aware of. Yesterday, Lord Voldemort revealed himself to the Wizarding public by assassinating Minister Fudge in broad daylight during a press conference. The timing of your escape, coinciding with the aftermath of the Minister’s murder is interesting, but I cannot fathom a link. You should be made aware that the current Interim minister is a man by the name of Rufus Scrimgeour. He is an ex-Auror and infinitely more suitable for the times at hand than the late Mr Fudge, however my sources tell me that he is moving, even now, to try and secure your endorsement in his new administration. I have no doubt he will try to meet with you at the earliest time possible and secure such an endorsement.”
“Right.”
Fudge was dead. Again, I didn’t care. It wasn’t as if I had ever hated the man, I found him frustrating and stupid, but I never would have wished for his death. My cruel detachment to the world was beginning to bother me on an intellectual level; it was unlike me, I knew. Perhaps something had happened during my capture to numb me to such trivialities as death.
Dumbledore seemed to be having similar thoughts; he was gazing at me with concern, perhaps wondering why I wasn’t shaken by any of this news.
“I must say, Harry, you’re taking this news extremely well. I can’t pretend that the news of Fudge’s death has been entirely for the worst. Now that the Wizarding public is aware of Lord Voldemort’s return the Ministry can no longer deny it, and indeed Minister Scrimgeour would not wish to. I fear, however, that it is too late for the Ministry to halt Voldemort’s return to power without sacrificing much of what we have rebuilt since his first downfall.”
“What does Scrimgeour plan to do about it?” I asked, wondering whether this ex-Auror really meant business.
“Ah, that is the question. As I said, he has only held the interim post since yesterday. He has requested a meeting with me which I will attend later today. Naturally he has returned to me the position of Headmaster, as well as my roles within the judicial arm of our government. Within those roles I hope to advise him on the best method of countering Voldemort’s machinations. I do intend to more fully discuss this with you when you have returned to Hogwarts next year. You see, the news of the battle at the Department of Mysteries was leaked to the press, and unfortunately now that Lord Voldemort’s return is public, the press has put two and two together to make five, so to speak. Your importance to the Wizarding public as an icon is now greater than ever.”
Dumbledore’s words normally would have calmed me, but something caused me to distrust him. I was suspicious of his actions and mentally questioning his statements, looking for half-truths and outright lies. Something had changed.
“How long do I have to stay here?” I really didn’t feel like spending weeks in bed, I was already getting bored of lying there.
“Your healing has been remarkably fast, Harry. If it was anyone but you I’d suspect they had been lying about being shot by a shotgun. You only need spend another two nights here to make sure there are no infections and to make sure is no hidden curse damage from your unexplained time away from us.”
“Good. And after that?” I asked, desperately hoping that I wouldn’t have to return to the Dursleys.
“Ah, I am sorry Harry but you will have to return to your Aunt’s house for at least a couple of weeks. After that, I’m sure Mrs Weasley would be happy to have you stay over until the start of next term.”
“Great, I’m sure the Dursleys will be happy to see me again, too,” I said, not quite managing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
Dumbledore sighed, once again showing his age. “I will try to keep your stay at your aunt’s house as short as possible, Harry.”
“Thanks.” I said, not really meaning it.
“Well, I shall bid you farewell, Harry. I’m sure you, Ron and Hermione have a lot to catch up on. Do not hesitate to contact me if you remember anything further regarding your memory lapses. Good day.” Dumbledore stood and walked out the door, nodding at Kingsley as he left.
“I also have to be getting back to the Ministry. Things are in uproar at the moment. There are two Aurors outside your door to make sure you don’t have any unexpected guests. I shall probably see you at the Burrow at some point. I’m sorry about Sirius, Harry.” Kingsley said, before getting out of his seat and following Dumbledore out the door.
My attention was once again drawn to the strange wax pattern on my bedside table. Something intrigued me about the pattern; it was important but I didn’t know why. I could get lost in the concentric rings spiralling inwards...
“Harry!” It was Hermione. She was looking at me sharply, probably wondering why I was so easily distracted. She and Ron had approached my bed and were sitting on the side, both looking at me.
“Sorry. So, uh, what happened to you two at the Department of Mysteries? Kingsley mentioned you all got out okay.”
“Ah, yeah, that’s the thing Harry. I thought we were all goners. Neville, Luna and Hermione were still standing just about. I was kind of out-of-it after the brains attacked me and Ginny wasn’t able to walk. We were cornered in this room trying to erect barricades but we were getting nowhere. The Death Eaters could easily deflect all our spells, we could barely block theirs and we were outnumbered. Honestly I thought we were all toast,” Ron said soberly.
“Then someone appeared, Harry. It was pretty peculiar. We thought he was a Death Eater at first; at least he was wearing their robes. But he started cursing them, pretty dark stuff, too. The Death Eaters decided he was the bigger danger at that point and started trying to take him down, but he was just amazing. Used spells I’ve never even heard of before and was transfiguring and summoning stuff all over the place to block their curses. It was pretty impressive; I wish I knew half of the spells he was using,” Hermione was jabbering away excitedly, “the strangest thing about him though was he looked about our age. I mean he was only slightly taller than I am. Much shorter than Ron. We couldn’t see his face so we don’t really know what to think. I suppose it’s possible he was just a very short wizard- you could tell he was a wizard by his voice- but he just seemed really young.”
“Maybe it was Flitwick on stilts,” I suggested, trying to cut short Hermione’s ramble.
“Oh don’t be silly, Harry! He was clearly a very powerful wizard and he saved all of our lives. And for some reason he let all of the Death Eaters go, too. He just knocked them around a bit then let them leave when they tried to run.”
“Could it have been me? I mean I don’t know any of that kind of magic, but I don’t have any memory of that time, plus I’m about the right height.” I knew it didn’t make complete sense that it was me, but if it was then I could at least start together to piece together what had happened in the last two weeks.
“No Harry, it couldn’t have been you. Your voice isn’t as deep as his. And he appeared about the right time you were in the Death Chamber, you know, with Sirius.” Hermione looked apologetic bringing this up. I didn’t care.
I grunted and found my eyes wandering back over the strange wax pattern on my bedside table.
Hermione sighed loudly, whipped out her wand and scourgified the wax.
“Hermione! That was important” I didn’t know why I said it almost as it left my mouth.
“What? That pile of wax was important?” Hermione was looking at me strangely.
“No, never mind. Forget it. So what happened after you were rescued by the mystery Death Eater?”
“Well, I did some quick first aid on Ron’s arms- those brains left some pretty nasty welts that still haven’t healed- and we checked on Ginny. She was alright but we couldn’t wake her up. After we were sure those two were okay we went looking for you. We systematically went through all the doors we could get into coming from the circular room but we didn’t find anything until we got the Death Chamber. We found...we found Sirius’ body lying on the floor but there was no sign of you. At about that time the rest of the Order showed up. They sent us on to St Mungo’s pretty much straight away, saying they’d continue to look for you, but they didn’t find anything except some spell damage in the Death Chamber.”
“What about after that? What happened at Hogwarts after we’d left?”
“Well, to be honest things were pretty messed up at Hogwarts. We were all in St Mungo’s for the first night. Hermione, Luna and Neville went back the next morning and McGonagall was in charge of the school- she went back to Hogwarts as soon as word got out about what happened.”
“Right,” Hermione said, continuing from Ron, “and she took over in her capacity as Deputy Headmistress. Umbridge still hadn’t returned from the Forbidden Forest and as Hagrid was still in hiding so there wasn’t a great deal she could do. The Ministry was up in arms about what happened, they were threatening to put us on trial for trespassing and vandalising Ministry property, but apparently they couldn’t get the charges to stick without incriminating several prominent families. McGonagall pretty much immediately disbanded the Inquisitorial Squad and set about trying to get Umbridge put on trial for threatening to put you under the Cruciatus curse but the Ministry was having none of it. It really is amazing how much the Minister controls the judicial system.”
I could hear the intensely disapproving tones in Hermione’s voice and was silently praying she wouldn’t start a new club to promote introducing the concept of separation of powers to the Wizarding government. I was fairly certain the aristocracy wouldn’t react well to having their powers curtailed.
“Anyway, eventually Umbridge made her own way out of the Forest but refused to talk about whatever happened to her. Personally I’m hoping there was a bit of bestiality involved,” Ron said viciously, “McGonagall managed to keep things ticking over until the end of term; Umbridge wouldn’t leave the Hospital Wing. We weren’t allowed to speak with anyone about what had happened at the Ministry. You were officially declared a missing person, believe it or not. Fudge told the press you were unduly influenced by Dumbledore and had followed him into hiding or something. The story didn’t make a lot of sense to tell you the truth. Things stayed pretty much the same after term ended, until Fudge was killed by You-Know-Who. Dumbledore came out of hiding with Hagrid and managed to convince the new Minister you’d been captured by You-Know-Who and actually had the Aurors looking for you. And, then, well you know...you appeared,” Ron finished lamely.
“Wait, people weren’t even looking for me until yesterday?”
“Well, I think the Order had people out looking. But I don’t think there’s a lot they could do without the Ministry doing the real leg work. My dad came home muttering about Snape a few times. I reckon he wasn’t lifting a bloody finger to help.”
“Well, Fudge is gone now so hopefully the Ministry shouldn’t be quite so useless.”
“Harry, you shouldn’t speak about the dead that way. It’s disrespectful,” Hermione said slowly. It looked like she was wondering if I’d damaged my head.
“Why? If there’s some stupid form of afterlife then he’s not really dead so I can insult the idiot all I like, and if there is in fact nothing after death then he won’t know what I’m saying and neither will he care.”
Hermione looked on the verge of arguing back but, ironically, Ron intervened trying to stop the argument.
“You’ll never guess who Bill’s dating, Harry!” He said excitedly.
“Charlie?”
The look on Ron’s face was priceless.
“Well you said I’d never guess so I chose someone unlikely. So who is he dating?”
“Fleur,” Ron replied, looking disgusted. I wasn’t sure whether it was at the mental image of his two older brothers together or the thought of his oldest brother and Fleur.
“Really? Well, I suppose that’s better than Charlie.”
“I suppose that’s true...”