Hi this a story I'm writing as a way of getting out of a writer's block, it may or may not be continued.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.
When one door closes…
Our story begins from the moment Harry had been carried back onto Hogwarts grounds, by a heartbroken Hagrid from the forbidden forest. The Dark Lord is secure in the knowledge that Harry is dead and that he himself has won the war. Harry has made it into the castle and is now about to cast, what he hopes is, his last spell against Voldemort…
Harry didn't dare look away from the red eyes of his opponent but he knew his friends were there, knew all hope was on him defeating their enemy. He wished that things had gone differently, that so many innocent hadn't died for the greater good. He hoped that the conclusion he'd come to, regarding the wand, was the right one.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort screamed, malice evident in his eyes and voice.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled at the same time, putting all of his hopes and wishes for a better present and future into his spell. The spells met in the centre of the circle the two had been treading.
Green light met the light from his own spell and the Elder wand shot up into the air from the Dark Lords hand.
Voldemort fell backwards, at the same time, Harry finally caught hold of the last of the Deathly Hallow and became the true Master of Death.
The world held its breath, time seemingly stopped and Harry's vision turned a blinding white.
The scar on his forehead burnt painfully for a second before abruptly stopping, lightning flashed and an unholy screech filled the air.
Harry opened his eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times as he eyed the darkness above, where on earth was he now he wondered. His ears were ringing and his body felt like ice, cold and stiff.
Tall stone pillars, lit up from below by what looked like lamps, stood in a circle around him and the open star strewn night sky looked down at him.
Harry squinted at the stones, wondering where his glasses were, the stones looked familiar but he couldn't quite place them. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and memories. Merlin, but he was tired. So very, very tired. He opened his mouth to call out to Ron, Hermione or whoever might be out there, but the words caught in his throat. He tried again to call out Ron's name and frowned as nothing came out.
Shifting slightly on the ground he grimaced as his muscles ached in protest.
"Hello." He slurred, glad to hear his own voice, he hadn't gone mute then he mused.
A loud crack broke the silence of the night, shortly followed by a second. Apparition, Harry thought as whoever it was moved closer. But he didn't care, he was too tired to do anything but lie where he was and wait for them to find him.
"State you name and come out where i can see you!" A voice ordered tersely from nearby. Harry turned his head slightly and saw the blurry outline of a cloaked person.
"Blimey Timmy! He hasn't got any clothes on!" A second voice exclaimed in surprise. Harry listened as the two people moved nearer to where he was.
"Keep your hands where I can see them boy!" The first voice, belonging to the Timmy person ordered as he stepped nearer to Harry. A short moment passed before a cloak was draped over Harry's naked body.
"You alright lad?" The man asked, touching Harry's shoulder gently. Harry squinted at him, pretty sure that it was an Auror, but he couldn't be certain.
"There's nobody else here Timmy! He's been dumped I think." The second man stated, stepping closer too. Harry frowned and wondered where the others were, he'd been surrounded by people a moment ago after all.
"What's your name lad?" Timmy asked again, moving closer to look Harry in the eye.
"Harry." Harry rasped, blinking tiredly.
"Harry…Harry…" He frowned, why couldn't he say Potter? He tried again to the same result, no words came out. He slowly raised his hand and brushed his bangs away, waiting for them to recognise him based on his scar but no gasp came.
"Saint Mungos you reckon?" The second man asked, sounding slightly unsure.
"I think it's for the best, Cadet Jones." Timmy answered, making Harry sigh. He was too tired to move, too tired to argue. He just wanted to close his eyes for a moment and forget everything.
Harry woke in a soft bed, surrounded by a white curtain, he knew the scent of Hospital Wing well enough to know he was in one.
The memory of being found by strangers caught up with him and he slowly sat up in the bed. His muscles felt like jelly, a bit as if he'd overdone it during Quidditch practice.
The curtain suddenly sprang aside and a woman dressed in lime green robes gave him a pleased look.
"Good, you're awake. How do you feel? Headache? Muscle ache?" She asked, stepping closer. She cast some diagnostic spells on him and pursed her lips.
"Not quite right yet, another booster and you'll feel much better!" She stalked off before he had a chance to answer her question or ask some of his own, making him sigh heavily.
"Harpies the lot of them! Women, I tell you!" A man in the adjoining cubicle ranted, giving him an annoyed look and motioned to where the healer had disappeared through the doorway.
"My wife caught me with my pants down so to say, she wasn't happy I'll tell you! And those bloody healers, women most of them, threatened to leave things down there as they were when they heard why I was in." The man grumbled, pointing at his nether region with a wince.
Harry blinked once before quickly turning away, glad to hear the healer moving closer to them again.
"You keep your mouth shut Mr Hootey! This is a place for healing and I won't have you disturbing the other patients with your chatter!" The healer scolded, quickly stepping into Harry's cubicle and pulling the curtain close behind her. The man's answer was turned into a muffled mumbling and Harry guessed that the curtain had some kind of silencing charm on it.
"Now then, Harry isn't it? Bottoms up!" She held a goblet to his lips with an expectant look on her face. Harry didn't argue, he just drained it to her obvious delight.
"I knew you were a right darling the moment I saw you! Good boy." She said cheerfully, patting his cheek, as Harry gagged at the revolting taste. He felt better almost immediately, his tired limbs felt lighter and his head stopped buzzing.
"Let's have a little chat shall we." She sat down on a tall stool beside his bed and gave him a sunny smile.
"Name?" She asked, after placing a quill on a rolled out piece of parchment.
"Harry-Harry…" He frowned.
"Harry…" He couldn't say Potter, the word got stuck on his tongue like glue.
"Hm, how about your age?" The healer asked, after having observed Harry struggle for a moment.
"Seventeen." Harry said, feeling better.
"…" He opened and closed his mouth before frowning. He'd attempted to say Potter again, but nothing.
"Parent's name?" She continued.
"…" Harry sighed. He had their names there at the tip of his tongue.
"…" He tried again. Nothing.
"School?" She asked eyeing Harry with curious eyes. Harry opened his mouth and closed it again without having made a sound.
"Hm, I'll have someone come and see you shortly Harry. Not to worry though darling, we'll have you sorted out before you know it." She patted Harry's arm gently before slipping out behind the curtain and making sure it fell close behind her. Harry sat alone in the cubicle wondering what in Merlin's name was going on.
An hour later, after a small breakfast consisting of tea and toast, he was being seen by a Senior Healer and what had to be a student healer.
"Please state your full name." The Healer asked, eyeing Harry in interest. Harry, who opened his mouth to answer, tipped sideways in bed as a bout of sudden vertigo made the world spin.
"I'm fine." The Healer muttered as he too seemed to have been affected. He leaned against Harry's bed as the younger wizard helped Harry to a seated position again.
"What happened yesterday, before you were found by the Aurors?" The Healer asked, looking Harry in the eye again. The world tilted again and Harry groaned. The Healer was attempting Legilimency and it clearly wasn't working the way it was supposed to. Harry closed his eyes and tried to fight off the dizziness that made his head spin.
"He's clearly had his memory tampered with!" The Healer stated in an annoyed tone, seemingly annoyed that he wasn't making any progress.
"Some sort of memory block, a strong one too." He added glaring at Harry, who slowly opened his eyes again, before softening his look.
"How do you feel otherwise Harry?" He asked, sitting down on the same stool the female Healer had sat in earlier.
"Fine. A bit tired I guess." Harry answered, glad the man had decided not to try Legilimency again.
"We were expecting you to feel drained as you came in with magical exhaustion. Perhaps you fought against whoever it was that caused your current memory block." The healer mused.
"Do you have any family or friends we can contact?" he continued, sighing as Harry shook his head. Harry frowned at himself, as he'd clearly intended to nod.
"Do you have somewhere to stay?" he asked, getting another shake in response by a still frowning Harry. Harry was feeling frustrated now, he'd nodded but his head had shook itself. He could stay at, he frowned again. That place Sirius left him, the house with the screaming portrait of Mrs Black. Why couldn't he remember the name or the address any more? He tried calling for Kreacher but to no use, the elf's name wouldn't cross his lips.
"I will have a word with Auror Timmons and see if they've heard any word about anyone missing you. I'm sure your relatives are worried." The healer said, making Harry snort.
"They're muggles and they hate magic and by definition me." Harry stated before blinking in surprise.
"They're called… my relatives are the…" He sighed and slumped in the bed, feeling cross with himself. Why was he being stopped from saying things? He remembered the Dursley's after all, it's not as if he could ever forget them.
"You are muggleborn then?" The healer asked, looking pleased that they'd accomplished finding that out. Harry shook his head confusing the man further.
"No, my parents were wizards, but they were killed when I was a baby. I grew up with…With the…With muggles." Harry said, annoyed at having to choose his words.
"I'm sorry to hear of your parent's death Harry." The Healer said sympathetically.
"They died a long time ago." Harry muttered.
"It was you-know-who." Harry said, lifting his bangs.
"I was left with this." He showed them the scar, surely the men could figure out who he was now. The Healer and his student both leaned closer eyeing his scar but no look of recognition came into their eyes and Harry frowned again.
"Do you have a mirror I could use?" Harry asked, perhaps someone had disguised him. The Healer nodded and summoned one for him to gaze into. He looked the same as always, well as far as he could tell without his glasses anyway. Messy hair, scar and green eyes. Harry Potter in the flesh.
"Have you live with the muggles since the downfall of He-who-must not-be-named?" The man asked, getting a nod from Harry.
"Did you attend Hogwarts? No, but you were given lessons in magic? Yes." The healer seemed pleased that Harry could answer yes or no questions, whilst Harry felt like he was going mad. Why was his head doing the opposite of what he wanted.
"Have you taken your Newt's? No." He gave the scowling Harry a patient smile.
"How about your Owl's? No…I had hoped we could check the Ministry school grade records but I guess that won't work." The healer looked stumped, as Harry fumed at not being able to make his voice heard.
"You didn't have any personal objects when the Aurors found you. Where did you get your wand? Did you have a wand?" He asked.
"I had a wand." Harry said, before opening his mouth to say that he'd bought it of Mr Ollivander. But no words again.
"Did you buy it at Ollivander's wand shop?" The Healer asked before giving a frustrated sigh and frowning, mirroring Harry who'd shook his head again.
"My, but you're a difficult one aren't you!?" He groused. He and the student left after saying they'd be back later. Harry had to have his eyes sorted out and the healer still had a few questions and charms he wanted to try out. Harry was left to his thoughts again.
"Mr… Harry." A man cleared his throat as the healer who'd taken away his lunch tray left.
"Auror Timmons, I took you here yesterday." The man introduced himself, stepping closer to Harry's bed, making Harry nod. He kind of remembered the man.
"Trainee John Jones. You're my first nudey." A second voice interjected excitedly, making Harry glance towards the curtain opening where an excited looking man was standing.
"Where is the coffee, Jones?" Auror Timmons asked, glaring at the younger man, who blanched before disappearing from view. The Auror sighed deeply before turning back to look at Harry.
"I hear the Healers suspect you've had your memory tampered with. What do you remember?" He asked, making Harry straighten in the bed.
"My name is Harry…I'm seventeen. I study…I went…I live…I grew up in… the muggle world." Harry had to force the words out, trying different ways of saying the same thing to see if it would come out or not.
"I'm the…the…my friends call me…" Harry couldn't believe what was happening to him. He couldn't even ask for Ron or Hermione, let alone say he was the boy who lived.
"I have a scar." Harry said triumphantly, pulling his bangs away. The Auror leaned forwards, gave his scar a glance before leaning back with a nod.
"Do you know who gave it to you? Do you remember what spell they used?" The Auror asked eyeing him seriously. Harry blinked and traced the scar to make sure it was still there, it was. What were the odds of both healers and the Auror not recognising his very famous scar he wondered?
"You don't know?" Harry asked, after a moment of choosing his words.
"Sorry lad, the Healers only found that you're exhausted magically, they couldn't tell what spells if any had been used on you. One of the worst cases of exhaustion they've seen for a while apparently. Anything you remember can help Harry." He said, leaning forwards.
Harry frowned again, the Auror seriously didn't know who he was.
"It was you-know-who." Harry said, happy to have been able to say it out loud.
The Auror nodded, a look of remembrance appeared on his face.
"The scar? Oh yes, the healer mentioned that you said you had lost your parents as a young child. I'm sorry for your loss." Auror Timmons said, making Harry sigh.
"Can you name a teacher you've had? Your mother's name? How about the current Minister of Magic?" The Auror asked question after question and Harry tried to answer them as best he could. The trainee came back and was sent off for more coffee before the Aurors finally left Harry to it. The Auror and Harry had both agreed that he hadn't had his memory completely wiped. His memories seemed to have been locked up as the healers thought, he remembered them but he couldn't share them.
The healers were of course very interested in him, apparently they didn't get many cases like his. Harry hadn't felt reassured at the comment or the happy look on their faces when they said it.
Harry had been taken up to the memory ward after his initial check-up, where he'd spent a very long week of nobody knowing who he was.
A week of not being able to ask how the war had ended, a week of reading the Daily prophet and not making any sense of it. A week of not being able to leave as he didn't have a wand or any other possessions.
Not one word about Voldemort, not one word about the fighting at Hogwarts, nothing.
Harry was physically fine, but as he still had mental problems the healers had asked him to stay. He got free food, a bed to sleep in and they came round and tried different charms to see if they could break the curse or hex he was under. They hadn't yet managed to figure out what he was affected by and Harry wasn't that hopeful that they would.
"Careful or you might just stay that way!" Healer Pike cautioned as she eyed Harry's frowning face. Harry turned to the bedside table to grab his glasses before remembering he didn't have any. The healers had fixed his eyes and he no longer needed any glasses, though the urge to look for them first thing in the morning was still strong.
"Here's the paper darling, now wipe the grouch away! You're leaving today aren't you?" She said, handing him the Daily prophet as she had every day for the past week. Harry nodded absentmindly and opened the paper. Healer Pike chatted to herself as Harry stared down at the paper in confusion.
"What is it darling?" The healer came closer and gave the paper a close look, trying to make out what had caused the sudden change in her patient.
"Harry?" She prompted, giving him a nudge.
"That's…that's…"Harry tried to say it, he did. He pointed at the picture of the moving man.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, great man he is too." Healer Pike said, smiling at him.
"Do you know him then? Did you attend Hogwarts after all?" She asked, frowning when Harry shook his head.
"Well that's a shame, he's a great man Headmaster Dumbledore. He's helping the minister with some suggestions on security or something similar." She said, straightening his covers before she strode off to help one of the other patients.
Harry shook his head again and felt like swearing. He had gone to Hogwarts and he had known Dumbledore. And why did he still shake his head when he meant to nod? And what did she mean he was helping? Dumbledore was dead, very dead.
"Headmaster Dumbledore arrives for talks with Minister Fudge at the Ministry of Magic." Harry read aloud slowly, he looked at the newspaper edition and date. It was todays, much to his confusion.
"Dumbledore and Hogwarts!" Harry said, having suddenly realised what he'd just read. He lit up with a smile, he'd finally managed to say the word Hogwarts out loud after a week of trying.
"Hogwarts is a school and Dumbledore…Dumbledore is the headmaster!" Harry said a while later, stumbling over the word was, which wanted to come out as is. Auror Timmons who'd just walked up to him gave him a strange look.
The Auror was there to escort him to the Midway House, a hostel for outpatients without a home. Harry had been given room and board for a month there, along with a small weekly stipend during his stay so that he could buy a wand and some clothes.
"Did you go there after all then Harry?" Timmons asked, sighing when Harry shook his head. Harry sighed with defeat, why did he even bother to try anymore.
"Come on, let's get you out of here." Timmons said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder comfortingly.
Two hours later Harry sat on the bed in his new room, alone but for his own thoughts. It was a simply furnished room, spotless and far better than his room at the Dursley's had ever been. The locks were on the inside and his window didn't have bars.
He counted the galleons he'd been given and gave a sigh. Ten Galleons would have to do, at least until he got to Gringotts. Not that he was all that sure he was going to get lucky there either, seeing as he couldn't even say his full name.
"Harry…Harry…Harry!" Harry muttered furiously, feeling like screaming. Why didn't the word Potter want to come over his lips? What had happened after he and Voldemort duelled that last time in the Great Hall? What kind of weird magic had he been cursed by? And why hadn't anyone come asking for him? Had he imagined catching the Elder wand in his hand and Voldemort falling down dead? So many questions in need of answering.
He stood from the bed and gathered up the Galleons, stuffing them back into the pouch he'd been given.
What could have happened to Ron and Hermione, to keep them from coming looking for him, he wondered walking towards the door. Had they been cursed the same way he was?
He needed a wand and then he'd visit Gringotts before making his way to the Burrow. Glad to have a plan of action he made his way to Diagon Alley using the Knight Bus. The Housekeeper of the Midway house had been kind enough to flag the bus down for him.
Stepping through the archway to Diagon Alley, with the help of Tom, was a real shock.
It looked as if the war had never happened, the dark arts shops that had been there last time were gone. People were milling about calmly, looking cheerful and the shops looked open for business as usual. Although WWW wasn't where it should have been, which was a bummer as Harry had thought to see if anyone was in. Harry meandered up to Ollivander's shop leisurely, hoping that someone would recognise him and call out his name. But the call never came and the recognition he'd become used to, never appeared on the faces he passed.
A bell rang as he opened the door to the Wandmaker's shop and Harry stepped in, glad to see it empty of customers.
"Good afternoon." Mr Ollivander greeted, eyeing him from across the counter in his usual creepy way.
"Hello Mr Ollivander." Harry said, hoping against hope that the man would greet him by name.
"Not one of mine I think. How may I serve you today Mr…" Mr Ollivander clearly didn't remember him and Harry sighed softly.
"Harry, just Harry. I'm in need of a new wand, mine was broken and I've lost the spare." Harry said, watching as the wandmaker raised his brows in surprise.
"Ah! Well then Mr just Harry, if I could have a peek at your School record and we'll get started. Unless you have a family member coming to verify who you are and that you are permitted to own a wand." Mr Ollivander said, staring at him expectantly.
"School record? Why do you need to see my records sir? And why wouldn't I be allowed to carry a wand" Harry asked confused.
"You are of age, I presume?" Mr Ollivander asked, nodding when Harry nodded.
"Then you need to show me proof that you have taken your O.w.l's grades as that or having a family member verifying you under their care is what is required to purchase and own a wand." Harry blinked at Ollivander words.
"But don't eleven year olds come and get their wands without…eh." Harry realised that he'd never even questioned if there were rules about who was allowed to get wands or not, he only knew of people getting them before the O.w.l exams or after. He opened his mouth and closed it again, much to the curiosity of Mr Ollivander.
"I had an accident and my memory isn't as it should be." Harry said as Mr Ollivander continued to stare at him.
"What do I need to do to get a wand? I have…I need to take my O.w.l's exams but I can't do that without a wand." Harry asked, cursing the fact that he couldn't just say what was on his mind. He didn't want to have to re-take his O.w.l's. He'd done them and had, well should have his grades somewhere. Maybe a visit to Hogwarts was in order but, if things carried on the way they were now, he wasn't so sure they'd recognise him either.
"You will need to book in your exam at the Ministry and bring me the confirmation of said booking." Mr Ollivander answered calmly, still eyeing Harry as if he was a curiosity needing to be solved. Harry sighed heavily before saying he'd be back.
So, no wand was bought. Gringotts next.
The visit to the bank had of course not gone as planned either.
Harry had not been able to state his name, produce a key or a wand. The Goblins had not recognised him or been very impressed with Harry's impersonation of a fish on dry land, as he'd tried to get his name out unsuccessfully. Only telling them he'd been involved in an accident had made them not throw him out of the bank at once.
In the end Harry had offered a drop of blood, at their stony faced request, which had given him an account and a new last name.
His name, and yes he could say it now, was Harry Peverell. Not Potter.
Peverell, as in Peverell from the story book about the three brothers.
Harry had opened and closed his mouth several times at that reveal before muttering the name a few times, much to the annoyance of the Goblin in front of him. Said goblin had then taken him down to the vault previously owned by Ignotus Peverell and Harry had looked at the small pile of gold contained within. An even one hundred Galleons, the Goblin had informed him, was all his to use. Anything else in the vault had been emptied out by previous generations. Harry guessed that the cloak might have come from this vault at one point, unless it had gone from hand to hand of course.
He'd taken a few handfuls of coin and accepted the key handed to him before leaving the bank, more confused than ever.
Why hadn't he been able to get into his own vault, the Potter vault, the vault he'd used since the age of eleven? And why had he not been told that he could access the Peverell vault when he came in as Harry Potter in the past six years?
His afternoon hadn't gotten any better when he tried to get the knight bus, flagged down by Tom, to take him to The Weasley's. He'd stood there for quite a while opening and closing his mouth before finally giving up.
People must think him mad, he thought, when he started opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. But he couldn't help it, he didn't know what he could or couldn't say.
He was now seated on his bed at the Midway house, feeling tired, upset and confused with life.
After resting for a few hours, and getting hungry enough to search for food, Harry decided to send the Auror Mr Timmons a letter. The man had said that he could contact him if he needed help and he definitely needed some advice regarding how to get a new wand. He felt decidedly unsafe without one.
He then tried to write letters to all of his friends, McGonagall and even Kingsley. All to no use. He couldn't get down more than a blob of ink on the paper, the words just wouldn't write. He couldn't write anyone's name down. Just his own, Harry Peverell as it now was.
He was getting past the point of being annoyed and confused at whatever was affecting his ability to talk or write about his past and present. Now he just felt in awe that there was a curse or charm that was able to cause these effects, he also wondered who it was that had cursed him. He was leaning towards suspecting Voldemort, but the confusing thing was, that the rest of the world seemed likewise affected to a degree. What spell could do that? And what power would it take to cast it?
Nobody recognised him as Harry Potter. He'd wished many times since entering the wizarding world that he could just be Harry but this was beyond odd.
Nobody seemed worried about Voldemort or his Deatheaters. Then there was Diagon Alley, it looked just as it had before the war started, gone were the dark and dingy dark arts shops. Even the Goblins had been affected and if Harry's suspicion was right then the house elves were cursed too. Kreacher wouldn't come after all, although Harry hadn't actually been able to call the elf to him as he couldn't say Kreacher's name.
Harry tried to think logically but he just couldn't make sense of it. He knew that he hadn't accidently time-travelled. He remembered everything up to the point of duelling Voldemort in the Great Hall and then he remembered everything from the moment he woke up.
No missing days. At most he was missing hours but as he hadn't been keeping his eye on the time whilst duelling Voldemort he couldn't be sure. He could have been found by the Aurors seconds, minutes or hours after disappearing from school as far as he knew. Besides, there were too many oddities for a couple of hours' time travelling. According To the Daily Prophet Dumbledore was alive, which he knew for a fact to be untrue.
Throwing himself down onto the bed, he hoped he'd wake up to a normal world again tomorrow. Not that the past weeks hopes before bed had done him any good.
"Harry Peverell." He muttered in disbelief in the darkness.
"Harry P…Harry P…Harry bloody Peverell!" He exclaimed, as he yet again was unable to say his name. He punched the pillow before drawing the sheet above his head and closing his eyes. He hated the person who was responsible for his problems and he'd figure out who was responsible, even if it was the last thing he did.
Hope you like. E