A short chapter today, but I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for all the follows and reviews so far. They keep me writing!
146 days missing
Wendell and Monica Wilkins were once incredibly ordinary people. There was no reason to suspect they might ever do anything outside the comfort zones of a normal middle classed couple. But one day, as if by magic, they chose to be something else. They chose to be spontaneous.
They packed up their bags and moved to Australia. It was strange how quickly they were able do it, far fewer ties held them in Britain than they'd realised.
Soon they'd traded their weekend walks in the park for surfing and their mundane office jobs for workers at a koala sanctuary. Within a short space of time they were living the tourist dream and soon they knew there would come a time where they'd stop referring to this as their holiday and realise these amazing experiences now formed part of their everyday lives.
Wendell had decided to grow his hair. To be spontaneous. Which he was now. True, he was greyer than his more golden colleagues, but he reasoned with himself that now he was a silver fox. Luckily for him, Monica agreed. As Wendell made his way back home, he swept it away from his eyes, a little consciously, and it was then he saw him.
The young man from that morning. Still sitting on the wall by his house with an air of melancholy. He couldn't have been any more than eighteen, but his aura oozed the sense of a boy who'd been made to grow up before his time. Wendell was very good at reading auras now.
He hesitated. The lad wasn't so scruffy he came across as homeless, but there was certainly an unkemptness that made him want to reach out to him. Was it a fight with parents? The Wilkins' had never had children, but his paternal urge had never gone away.
As he approached the lad he was viewed with suspicion. Maybe this wasn't the best idea.
"Hello there." Wendell hoped he sounded breezy rather than wary. "You been there all day?"
"Is that a problem?"
Another Brit! Funny how delighted a familiar accent can make you feel when you're far from home. "Of course not." He smiled warmly. "You here on holiday?"
"Sort of." The boy returned his smile. It was kind, sincere. "You?"
"Oh." Wendell blushed as he beamed. "Me and the wife live out here now. We still have to pinch ourselves this is the life we lead!"
A flicker of something flashed in the lad's eyes. Then the easy smile reappeared. "Congratulations. I'm glad you're so happy."
"Wendell?" Monica opened the front door, no doubt she'd been spying on this exchange. "Do you want a cuppa?"
Wendell glanced back at the young man. "Would you like one?" He'd never have asked a stranger in for a drink back home. But he was the spontaneous sort now and it was nice to see the boys face split into a grin.
"Love one."
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Monica fussed for the boy as soon as he stepped into their home, deciding he was far too skinny and needed plumping up with some biscuits.
"You come over with your family, love?"
"Um, no actually." The visitor was perched on the edge of the sofa with a look of hesitancy, understandable in a strangers home. "I came by myself."
"I nearly went backpacking by myself." Monica confessed as she poured the tea. "Bottled it at the last minute. I'm a social bird really. Good on you for being so brave! I bet they all admire you for it at home."
The boy gave a small smile. "It's something I'm kinda known for actually."
The couple exchanged a look. Poor kid. Clearly he was running away from some sort of pressure.
"What's your name anyway?" Wendell said brightly. "You know ours."
"Harry." He held out his hand formally. "Harry Potter."
The handshake he gave was strong. Which was good because Monica couldn't abide a weak handshake.
"Do you have kids?"
"No." The couple said in unison, both a little wistfully.
"I'd always said no in the past." Monica continued. "But these days I find myself wondering why. Ah well. Can't be helped."
The rest of the afternoon passed in a series of small talk and reminiscing old times back home. It seemed odd to be telling so much of this to a stranger, but Harry had a wonderful way of evoking confidence and soon they were sharing all sorts of things. Perhaps it was the tea, they'd laughed.
Harry glanced down at his watch. "I really should be getting back. Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mr and Mrs Wilkins. It was a pleasure to meet you both."
"Thank you for listening to us jabber on for so long!" Wendell laughed as he rose with him. "It's been quite lovely to talk about old times again. So many things I'd forgotten about. I used to love camping in the Forest of Dean."
"Well if you run into any trouble while your back packing in Australia you know who to call." Monica gave Harry a hug and tucked a piece of paper with their number on it into his shirt pocket. "It can be a lonely place if you don't have anyone." They'd learned the boy was an orphan and it had pulled on their heartstrings. What a poor lost soul. No wonder he'd gone travelling. They could only hope he'd find what was missing from his life soon.
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As Harry disappeared from their view, he massaged his temple. He'd never had a conversation with the Granger's before. It was so frustrating for that to be it. For them to not know who he was, who their daughter was. Hardly the meeting the parents experience he'd imagined. The whole thing had felt so dishonest.
Hermione had successfully obliviated them into believing they were different people, but the majority of their memories stayed the same - she was just omitted from them. Family holidays became couples holidays, the third bedroom in the house was a guest bedroom. Without her in their thoughts made them far less interesting targets for Death Eaters.
Harry could only hope they really were as nice as the people he'd just spent an afternoon with. Mrs Granger was hilarious, full of entertaining stories where she pulled herself out of one mishap or the other just in the nick of time. Mr Granger was endearingly wise, always ready with a quote or some information. He encouraged Harry to evaluate his responses, to question his self. It was nice to see where Hermione got it from.
He'd told them he was off to check out some of the landmarks, but he was really heading back home. There'd be time for all that later. When he found her.
Harry was just on his way to the site of the portkeys when he spotted Robard sitting on a park bench.
Dressed in a crisp white shirt and pinstripe suit, with his waistcoat and fedora hat, Robard looked like a 1920's gangster. In fairness the look suited him and none of the passing muggles seemed to suspect a thing. As the gold eyes bore into the green ones, Harry knew he couldn't avoid his boss. No matter how much he wanted to.
"It's the weekend." Harry said defensively before Robard had the chance to open his mouth. "I was always going to be back before Monday. I'm not missing any work for this holiday."
Something flickered over Robard's face. Amusement?
"A holiday, Potter?"
"Yes." He hadn't meant it to sound quite so fierce. "I've never been on holiday before. I figured the opposite end of the world was as good a place as any."
"And the address of the Granger's had absolutely nothing to do with it?"
It was pointless. Robard had expressly forbidden Harry not to go seeking out the Granger's and he had disobeyed orders. He may as well admit it.
"How did you find out?"
"I had you followed as soon as you promised me you wouldn't go looking for them."
"You knew I was lying?"
"I knew you would do it because I would have done exactly the same thing at your age."
Was that a smile? Surely not, the small turns at the edge of his lips had to be a coincidence.
"Then why didn't you want me to go?"
Robard patted the seat beside him. Harry sat down gingerly.
"I'm not the only one who had you followed." He said bluntly. "Kingsley too. And when they discovered you really had found Hermione's parents the decision was made to return their memories." He looked down at Harry who held his head in his hands. "For two parents to recover from the shock that their daughter had their memories modified and then to learn she is missing? I wanted to protect them from that harm until I had a stronger lead. There are Healers in there as we speak returning their memories."
"I only meant to try and question them." Harry said hoarsely, a knot tying in his stomach. "I figured they'd have some memories I could use. Something I could find a lead with."
"Did you find anything?"
Harry numbly shook his head.
Robard looked back out at the park, seemingly watching the sky. "We can only offer them support going forward. They'll be devastated. We'll need to encourage that we're doing everything we can." Robard met his eyes. "So long as you trust me that I am doing everything I can."
"Robard, I-"
"Do you trust me?"
Part of him wanted to say no. It was the part of him that wanted to be in charge. The part of him that lay awake at night screaming that she would have been found by now if only he'd been given more opportunities to do his job. The part of him that whispered in his ear that Robard was envious of the boy who lived.
Another part, a newer part wanted to say yes. The part that was starting to see a human behind the terrifying boss.
"Yes." It ended up being so easy to say. "I do."
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As Harry arrived at his flat that evening he was greeted by the Daily Prophet on his doormat. For most households, the appearance of a newspaper in their house wasn't too unsual. But for Harry it was. He despised the Daily Prophet and would continue to so long as that awful Skeeter woman was there. Sure enough it was her headline that screamed from the front page.
MONTHS AFTER VOLDEMORT'S DEMISE, WILL THE CHOSEN ONE EVER GIVE FAMILIES JUSTICE?
What did that mean? Against his better judgement, Harry picked up the paper and flopped onto the sofa. Sure, the world hadn't returned to instant stability, but what did he have to do with it?
Mr Letch is a broken man before me.
"I wonder if Potter knew how much damage his cause has done to families all over the world." He sobs into a handkerchief. "Families who have lost people all because they got caught up in something they didn't need to be involved in. Potter should have made it clear that ordinary people didn't need to fight for him. Instead he called on their help and brought a battle to a school."
Mr Letch of course refers to the Battle of Hogwarts. Why Mr Potter brought danger to a place where many parents send their children to be safe is a question no one will ever really be able to answer. Then again, we have always known him to be reckless. No doubt a side effect from his tragic backstory.
Barry Letch was a sixth year in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. Charming and well-liked by all of his peers, his professors had forseen a bright future which has now been extinguished.
Mr Letch, 45, argues that had it not been for Mr Potters' foolish decision to head into a building filled with minors and put everyone at risk, his son would still be alive. Mr Potter's reckless actions did not take into account the dangers of others, including underage students, would face. Had a proper plan been implemented, many would still be alive. Mr Letch is now seeking compensation for what has happened and will be presenting the Ministry with his lawsuit in the morning.
Story continues page 5.
Harry dropped the newspaper, his hands trembling. She was right. He hadn't thought of anyone else at all. As the beaming face of Barry Letch smiled up at him, Harry felt sick. It wasn't that he remembered their time together. It was that he didn't remember him at all. A faceless boy who was now dead because of him. Someone who had a bright future was now lying in the ground all because Harry hadn't thought to make a proper plan. Fred. Tonks. Lupin. Colin. There were so many others that had died that day.
He had to make things right.