A/N: I intended this to be a one-shot, but if I were to get enough reviews… well, lets just say anything is possible.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, regrettably, is not mine. Nor are any of the characters, but I'm too far away from J.K Rowling for her to sue me.

"Blast, blast damn and blast!"

The restrained curses floated out the door and into the corridor, just as Ron and Hermione were approaching. They froze briefly and exchanged a long, doubtful look,

"We have to do this, don't we Ron?" Hermione said, biting her lip.

Ron just nodded, took hold of her hand and led her into the room. It was white, stark white, with freshly cleaned walls and a metallic-framed single bed in the centre of the room. The floor was gleaming cream linoleum, and the large set of drawers to the side of the hospital room was, just to keep with the theme, white. In contrast to this bland world, which seemed to have been designed by someone with little or no imagination, were quite literally hundreds of stuffed penguin toys. Ranging from the size of a glass to the size of a person, and in every colour imaginable, the flightless birds of the Antarctic surrounded a tall, thin boy sitting at a sewing machine. His shining green eyes remained intent upon his work in front of him, he was trying to unpick a mess of green stitching, as his visitors entered, he seemed to take no notice of them.

"Harry?" said Hermione gently

"Harry, it's us mate."

Finally he looked up and his face broke into a broad, energetic smile

"You've come about my work haven't you? Come to interview me? I'm afraid they're not for sale, no not at the moment, I need them you see. I need an army."

Hermione and Ron let their hands fall away from each other and moved slowly to the bed, worry etched across their faces.

"No Harry, we haven't come to interview you," said Ron

Harry's face fell with disappointment and he muttered something under his breath as he returned to the stitches on the pink fabric in front of him.

"It's about your memory Harry," Hermione looked close to tears "Oh Harry can't you remember anything? Can't you remember the prophecy, the Horcruxes, Voldemort… any of it?"

At this Harry's head swung around again to face them so fast that Hermione gave a small gasp and fell back on the bed slightly. Ron caught her and pushed her back up again.

"Voldemort? Of course! The nurses told me all about that wacko. That's what these are for. Apparently, what we need, right, is an army, some kind of unconquerable army. So I thought, and this was pure genius you'll see, I thought – penguins! These nurses have been giving me really odd looks and saying frankly bizarre things about magic and curses (and just between you and me I think some of them are a bit confused in the head, you know). But I've got it all sorted up here," Harry tapped his temple knowingly and nodded his head slightly "This Voldemort guy needs sorting out, and my penguins are just perfect for the job."

There was an awkward silence. Someone down the corridor coughed.

"Harry mate, you've got to listen to us," Ron stood up to put his hand on his best friend's shoulder and kneel down to his height, "It's not the nurses that are a little loopy. It's you. You're completely crackers. You need to use your wand to sort out You-Know-Who, not stuffed birds."

Harry leaped back, looking around wildly, reached out an arm and grabbed a nearby fluorescent yellow, two foot penguin, he waved it at his visitors like a deadly weapon.

"You're working for them, aren't you? You can't stop me! It's destiny! Don't you dare tell Him of my plans, you'll ruin it for all of us!"

"We're your best friends Harry," Hermione sniffled "Please, you've got to let us help get your memory back."

"So you know who stole it do you?" Harry's eyes glared through his glasses to examine Hermione's face "You know who's behind all of this?"

"Yes Harry," she replied with a sigh, "we know exactly what happened. We were there. We've been over this before – your memory has gone. A Death Eater used a Memory Charm on you, and now you're confused with no idea just how much you mean to us, or to the whole Wizarding World. We're your friends, Harry. We just want to help."

Harry narrowed his eyes, and slowly lowered the penguin. Just as Ron let out a deep breath he had been holding in while Hermione had tried to explain, Harry gave a loud "Ah hahahaha!", pulled back his arm and began a barrage of soft, furry missiles on his two old school-friends.

Later, not long after Hermione and Ron had run, arms over their heads, at great speed from the room and out of the ward, one of St. Mungo's more experienced nurses ambled along the corridor collecting the remnants of the battle. She stopped to admire one of the creatures, judging by the gleaming colour of its orange fur it was fairly recently made. Admiring the even stitches and accurate proportions, the nurse, whose name was Maude, incidentally, noted the name "Ron" running along a small space by the toy's neck.

"They really are very good," Maude said to nobody in particular, and continued to collect the rest.