Chapter Two
"What's wrong with my son?" Lily demanded, her voice tight, and on the verge of breaking. One can hear the iron will of a fighter, holding back tears in her voice. The medi-wizard, Jordan Vandom looked away, unable to meet her eyes. The muscles around his jaw tighten as he debated the best way to break the news to them.
The room they were currently in was under three layers of protection charms and a silencing spell. Prominent members of the Order of the Phoenix were all gathered to discuss the issue of one Harry Potter. This included Albus Dumbledore, James and Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Minerva McGonagall, Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Jordan Vandom. Curiously, Remus Lupin was conspicuously omitted from this meeting. Severus Snape was also notably absent, but then again he wasn't even an accepted member of the Order. Not many trusted his loyalties, only because Dumbledore believed in him, that everyone else tolerated him.
Although this wasn't an official Order meeting, the tense atmosphere could easily give their full-scale Order meetings, a run for its money.
"There is no easy way to phrase this," Jordan began, "so I shall be blunt about it." James tensed visibly as Jordan continued. "What I am about to say are just speculations, but I ask that you treat this information seriously." He waited for every member in the room to acknowledge his words. Everyone nodded carefully, already anticipating the news. Jordan nodded and began his assessment of Harry Potter.
"I suspect that Harry is suffering from PTD, Post- Trauma Disorder." He waited for that statement to sink in before plowing right on. "You have all viewed my memories of yesterday night," the medi-wizard made a vague gesture towards the pensive off to the side, "and seen the way that he has reacted. Harry's emotions are very unstable at the moment. Base on my previous interaction with patients that have similar symptoms, it is safe to say that Harry was put through an extensive amount of physical and mental torture. With time, patients have showed signs of healing and calming down, but paranoia is to be expected."
Here Jordan paused for a sip of water. A slight sign of relief passed throughout the room. Before the relief could settle in, Jordan quickly picked up where he left off,
"But that is not what I am most afraid of," his expression was hard, "I am afraid that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has tampered with Harry's mind, feeding him false images and mendacity."
Memories of Harry's reaction to the woman who gave him birth, surfaced to mind:
"You're supposed to be dead too! Voldemort killed you!" Harry's voice was hysterical. "I see it, every night, I see you dying, I hear you screaming. You're dead. He killed you! You're not real!" Harry was getting desperate.
"He believes that You-Know-Who has done away with Mrs. Potter, and he thinks himself the murderer of his godfather, Mr. Black. As you can all see, Mrs. Potter and Mr. Black are both very much alive, that is what leads me to think that false memories have been implanted into Harry's mind."
"W- why? For what purpose?" Lily voiced the thought on everyone's mind. Jordan finally looked up to meet her eyes to give her the straight answer she expected.
"To use him as a weapon in this war."
A few sharp gasps can be heard.
"It is not unusual, and this was once a tactic used in muggle warfare. By capturing the enemy and through extensive torture and mental manipulation, a strong ally can be formed. The ingenious point of this tactic is to capture someone with close relations to your archenemy. By remodeling that person's personality and then re-placing them at the side of your enemy, you then have a weapon that isn't under suspicion and has direct access to getting the life of your enemy. The final product after the mind-altering process is someone who believes they have led a horrible, messed up life, and the belief to support the side that they were originally opposed to. But the process is inhuman, and those who have ever survived can be counted on one hand, it is no longer in practice anymore in the muggle world, and many humans have fooled themselves into believing that their ancestors have never came up with something so brutal and utterly gruesome."
Jordan paused for breath.
"It is in my belief that Harry was put through this kind of torture. It is obvious that Harry has been physically wounded. He bears a peculiar scar on his forehead, and I have deduced that it is a curse scar. I do not know how strong the curse is. That is not in my department of specialty, but through several spells, I have detected the residuals of the Cruciatus Cruse, amongst various others, his mentality is questionable at this stage. My guess is that Harry escaped before the complete process was finished, but that is only eighty percent wishful thinking on my part. Since he is unconscious right now, I cannot investigate his situation further. This subject was only briefly mentioned in a rare text, and I do not know the remedy. However, I do not suggest legilimency, for it might even warp the legilimen's mind. Also, he should be kept away from issues of the war because right now, he is a threat. To us, to himself, and to the entire wizardry society."
"What can we do for him?" this time it was Arthur that spoke up.
Jordan let out a weary sigh and responded, "Most mental patients require time to heal and that is what I suggest right now. Also do not overwhelm him, and slowly re-expose him to elements of his life. Too much pressure will put stress on him, and I predict the results will not be good."
A long, uncomfortable silence followed as the weight of the situation slowly sunk in, and each member debated the best way they should treat this situation, or rather, how they should react to Harry Potter when they come in contact with him.
"Vandom," Peter spoke up. Everyone with the exception of Dumbledore and the Potters gave a small jump at his voice. "In your memory, Harry asked for Ron and Hermione."
"Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?" Minerva repeated.
Jordan looked surprised for a second, for he completely forgot that part of his memories; too intent he was on figuring out Harry's ailment. Finally, he nodded in confirmation.
"He seems to remember his friends, perhaps we should start by reuniting them?" Peter suggested. As he trailed off, Peter looked at the two Weasleys as if asking for permission.
Arthur and Molly did not look at each other in response to Peter's question. Their only communication was a gentle squeeze of each other's hands. Surprisingly, Molly, the protective mother hen, was the one, who answered,
"I believe that is a decision up to Ron and Hermione to make," she said in a tight yet firm voice. The three present marauders and Lily was infinitely grateful for her and everyone nodded at her resolution.
"I also suggest that we inform Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger of Harry's situation. They need to know what they are agreeing to," Dumbledore spoke up. His reasoning was incontrovertible and everyone agreed.
Harry's eyes snapped open and his hand immediately reached for his wand on his bedside table where he knew he always kept it. His hand banged into glass instead of finding the familiar wood of his wand, and Harry realized he wasn't at home anymore, if the Dursley's house can actually be called his home. Harry jack-knifed into a sitting position. His head spun violently in retaliation to his action, and the glass he hit crashed to the floor, spilling green potion all over the tiles.
Frantic footsteps thundered down the hall, and the door was slid open almost violently. Harry took a brief moment to note that he was in a different room from the one he first woke up in. It was single person suit with a smaller window that was higher up against the wall. Probably to keep him from escaping he thought bitterly, before jumping behind the bed for defense, prepared to fight. The visiting faces shocked him so much that he nearly tripped over the bed.
"We heard a crash-" the male voice started.
"Is everything okay, Harry?" the female one asked.
Harry let out his breath in a low whoosh, practically dizzy with relief. In his haste to reach the two he nearly tripped and half stumbled to them. In a few quick steps he fell into their arms and hung onto them like his life depended on it.
"Ron. Hermione." He mumbled, relief and joy bubbling in his stomach. His budding headache was completely insignificant in comparison to his friends' safety.
"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione tried to get a look at Harry's face; she was shocked to find tears streaming down his cheeks.
"What happened Harry, did someone hurt you?" Ron's tone held a tint of aggression at the thought.
Harry could only shake his head in response, his throat too clogged to respond.
"You're alive," Harry managed in a choke.
"Of course we are, why wouldn't we be, mate?" Ron asked quizzically. Lightening seemed to strike Hermione as she recalled the briefing they were put through in order to see Harry. She kicked Ron in the shin.
"Yeow," Ron whipped his head to stare at her like she sprouted an extra eye. "Wha-"
"I thought- I thought Voldemort got to you," Harry said in a strangled sob. Neither one flinched at the name, but it took a few seconds for the words to sink in. The two were confused for only a slight second, for neither one of them have come into contact with Voldemort recently, especially not since Harry pulled his disappearing act on them. Suddenly what the medi-wizard, Vandom, told them floated to mind:
"It is in my belief that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has tampered with Harry's mind. He may say things that have never happened, because these are the memories that You-Know-Who instilled in him to make him believed he lived a wretched live caused by either the Order or Dumbledore. This is so that Harry will feel like the only way to redeem his life is by killing Dumbledore, and, or betraying the Order."
Ron voiced his disgust.
"I have not had time to assess his mentally further, and after the incident last night I do not believe he will bode well with someone he does not remember or know. Therefore I must warn you again, that by accepting this responsibility should not only be for a reason to see him, but you may be putting your lives in danger as well."
The two didn't take more than two seconds to answer, and they never looked at each other for reassurance.
"I understand the risks involved, Mr. Vandom, and I accept this duty," Hermione spoke with determination shining in her eyes.
"I have absolute faith in Harry," was Ron's adamant response.
Now they both came to the same conclusion. Harry hallucinated the whole ordeal due to Voldemort's doing, and they have to correct it or he may never get better. For Harry to recover fully would be naïve and wishful thinking, but both hope to do the best that they can in aiding his recovery.
"We haven't been in contact with Voldemort since our fourth year, Harry," Ron informed him.
"Voldemort got to you," Hermione cut in bluntly. Ron's head snapped to ogle at Hermione like she grew tentacles out of her head instead of hair. This time it was Ron's turn to aim a kick at Hermione. Hermione chose that moment to move and guide Harry back to the bed. Ron's toes connected with the metal doorframe. His mouth opened in a silent scream. The look on his face did not deny his pain.
"Voldemort did horrible things to you," Hermione began, she decided to be direct in this predicament, she never did like beating around the bushes when trying to solve a problem. "He tried to mess with your memories." Harry stared at her, bewilderment evident on his face. Hermione took a deep breath. Harry had not tried to attack them, he sounded more worried than hostile when he saw them, and right now he looks like an utterly lost puppy. Hermione decided to take the plunge. "And we are going to help you remember, Harry." She decided to leave the part about him being used as a weapon out of the equation, it wasn't something she felt that Harry should be concerned about for now, he might take the news violently, and it would only complicate matters.
Behind Hermione, Ron mouthed to himself that the girl was crazy, and that he didn't have anything to do with her hair brain schemes, and also if what she said triggered Harry's 'condition,' then Merlin help him, he took no part in it. He'll be the first one out the door. And all the while, nursing his stubbed toes while hopping on the other foot.
Harry blinked. His mind was running slower than snail mail as he tried to make head or tail of what Hermione said. From his perspective, and what he went through, Harry came up with the conclusion that after Voldemort knocked him out, he tried to muddle with his memories. Harry wouldn't put it pass that psycho to mess with other people's mind. But there were some things amiss about what Hermione said. For instance, what had Voldemort hoped to gain by altering his memories, wouldn't it be more effective to simply finished Harry off when he had the chance? And also, Ron mentioned that he and Hermione hadn't had contact with Voldemort since fourth year. What about two years ago, in the Department of Mysteries? And in the fourth year, Hermione and Ron never had direct contact with Voldemort. Wrinkles formed between Harry's brows. Something wasn't adding up.
"Ron, you said you hadn't had contact with Voldemort since fourth year. But what about fifth year?"
"Huh?" Ron stopped in the middle of his one-legged dance, "Oh, he's still all over the newspapers if that's what you mean."
"Huh?" Harry blinked again.
"It's okay, Harry." Hermione said soothingly. "Don't think too much about it, we came to visit you today because we missed you, let's not think too hard about anything else."
"Not think too hard?" Ron repeated. "Uh-oh, Harry, better take cover, Hermione's finally gone bonkers from all that cramping," he joked.
Hermione's face flushed through three interesting shades of red, she looked ready to castigate Ron, but then thought better about it, and grabbed a pillow off of Harry's temporary bed to hurl at Ron's face.
"Hey, what was that f-," another pillow found its mark. Harry vaguely marveled at Hermione's good aim.
Ron shifted his body to the left to dodge the third one, only to get socked in the ear by a fourth one. Just where did she get all these pillows? Getting quite fed up with Hermione's mood swings, Ron gathered the pillows and began throwing them back. He misjudged his aim on two of them, or rather his aim was that good, for both of them scored on Harry's nose consecutively. The third one hit Hermione but she dodged the fourth one that sailed in an arc and plopped on Harry's head.
Harry's eyebrow twitched.
"Whoops."
Thus began an all out pillow fight between the trio.
The fight came to an end when the seams on one of the pillows popped, and feathers burst all over the room. Harry collapsed back onto the bed, his face red from laughing. Hermione slumped to the floor in giggles by Harry's feet. And Ron fell into a chair heaving for air, a big grin on his face. The feathers swayed slowly to the floor despite gravity, and blanketed the room in a gentle atmosphere.
"So what was that fit for?" Ron asked leaning forward with his chin in his hands, and his elbows on his knees.
"Fit?" Hermione hissed the word like a wet cat.
And you wondered why she was McGonagall's favorite student, he thought with mirth.
"Cramping? Honestly Ron, I got you a dictionary for Christmas, use it."
"Wha- what?" Ron sputtered. "That was from first year," he cried indignant. "What's wrong with the word 'cramping?' You- Oh."
Hermione crossed her arms in a superior form as Ron realized his grammar error.
"I meant cramming," he huffed dramatically in defeat, cradling his head in one hand, like having a mini war over grammar was a daily occurrence.
Harry couldn't help it; he collapsed into peals of laughter again. It was nice to know that Ron and Hermione's squabbles hadn't changed one bit. And because it felt good to laugh, Harry laughed some more. His laughter was contagious; grins broke out across Hermione and Ron's faces, as they joined in, too. It made Harry feel young and lighthearted again to laugh without a care. Not that Harry wasn't young, he was still considered a youth at seventeen years of age, but being engaged as the leader to an opposition against Voldemort in war, didn't give him much chances to feel lively like he use to in school, surrounded by his friends.
As their laughter died down, other thoughts surfaced in Harry's mind. In their last fight against Voldemort, nearly all of his friends took part in the battling. If Hermione and Ron were all right, then Harry extrapolated that the rest of his friends must be, too, but he had to ascertain that they were indeed fine.
"So how are the others?" Harry inquired casually.
What might've been a normal question, was like treading on thin ice for Ron and Hermione as they tried to think of how best to respond to such a question that would not affect Harry's 'condition,' yet at the same time expand their knowledge on how much of his real memories had Harry been able to retain.
"Do you have anyone particular in mind?" Ron tried tentatively.
Harry's brows furrowed, "everyone else that was in the last battle," his two best friends waited with bated breath, "you know, Neville, Seamus, Katie, Luna, Ginny…" after that Harry listed a bunch of names including all the Weasley brothers.
Ron and Hermione mentally grinned at how much Harry does remember, and they slowly let out the breath they held in anticipation before.
"Everyone is doing fine. They're all healthy," Hermione beamed, then her look darkened, "and they've all been worried sick about you, Mister Potter," she chastised, "running off in the middle of the night and then disappearing for an entire month."
Hermione looked visibility hurt that Harry couldn't help but apologize, "I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't mean to-" Wait, run off? A month? But everyone agreed on that last battle as his or her final gamble, everyone went together…
Suddenly a knock interrupted them. A medi-witch stood at the doorway carrying a silver tray with food, water, and even more potions. Harry cringed; he knew whom those were for.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but the young Potter needs to rest soon," the witch spoke carefully.
Hermione and Ron looked remorsefully at one another before turning to Harry to bid good-bye, only to see Harry clinging to himself with white knuckles and his body shivering violently.
"Harry, what's wrong?" His two friends immediately fell to their knees by his side.
"Are you ready to talk yet, young Potter?"
Flashes of the nightmare burned through Harry's mind,
"He- he was whipping me," Harry said in a low mumble, and shuddered involuntarily.
"What?" Ron asked for clarification.
"Whipping," repeated Hermione, who miraculously caught the low murmur of Harry's voice, "It can be considered a form of muggle torture, but is mostly used by animal tamers and ring masters to train animals for performance," she muttered the last part for Ron's benefit. Somehow, her detached definition made the situation a little less emotional.
The medi-witch couldn't tell what was happening from her angle so she spoke up hesitantly,
"Um, to ensure proper recovery, the patient must take his potions on schedule, and I'm sure he must be hungry by now."
Harry hadn't realized it before due to all the action since he woke up, but there was an unmistakable empty gnawing in his stomach that can only associate with hunger.
"I- I'm okay," Harry tried to reassure Hermione and Ron, "besides, I could use some food in my system," he managed a pale smile.
His two friends nodded uncertainly and got up to leave.
"It's December, but vacation isn't until two days later," Hermione started off.
"By then, you'll have the whole school storming this place to see you," Ron added enthusiastically to lighten the atmosphere.
"We'll bring…" Hermione listed a couple of names including some of Ron's brothers, "next time, okay?"
Harry nodded.
"Okay, take care, Harry."
The three grasp hands lingeringly and then separated.
It wasn't until after Harry finished his meal and potions, and was slowly drifting off to sleep did he realized that Hermione said it was December. It would explain the cold outside, but the last fight happened at the start of spring, even one month and three weeks later would not bring him into December, so what exactly is going on… by the time his thoughts reach there, he was too tired to ponder much longer, and Harry's mind faded into sleep.
Author's Note:
The whole section about torturing your enemies to alter their memories, I'm not sure how much of that is true or false. My cousin once told me it was real, and that's just plain sick and strengthens my view on how cruel some humans can be. I mean you have Holocausts and Genocides going on around the world... But then again we were pretty young when my cousin told me such a thing happened in this world before. My cousin could've been just messing around with me, I mean; my cousin was pretty wild back then. What I have just typed it not meant to offend anyone in anyway whatsoever, I just don't want any readers to falsely believe what I have written as the truth because after all this is only fan fiction. I apologize if you were offended by anything I mentioned in this chapter, or in future chapters for that matter. Thank you for reading.Attention:
I plan to change the working title of this fan fiction to "Je T'Aidera" by the next chapter, so please keep that in mind and I hope no one will get confuse.