Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling

Part 3/Chapter 4:

Brett Heinemann, a senior technician at Facility 19, had watched as Colonel Bedville pressed the black button, that was supposed to have caused the immediate death of the subject. That piece of film was meant to have been destroyed. Brett no longer remembered that there had ever been a man they called John Doe, and he no longer remembered that, in his resentment, he had made an unauthorised film. It was found separate from the others, and was not viewed until tenth January. It was time that a decision was made, whether to return Bedville and Berg, or to charge them with their crimes, and try them under Aniragi law.

Dieter Roche, as head of the Auror Department, was responsible for the investigation. He conferred with Blake McMillan, Minister for Magic, and then requested the opinion of certain members of the Wizarding High Court. The three great witches and wizards of the Wizemgamot were all descendants of Bellamy, Jill Parker, Wilma Potter and Gerard Innes. Professor Parker said that it was obvious that Pat Howard, wife of Bellamy, should be consulted, as well as Bellamy himself. It was agreed. Pat and Bellamy would have the greatest say in the decision. McMillan distanced himself. The others would be the Committee, but he had an important engagement in America.

When the decision was relayed to Mark and Isaac, they crossed their fingers. John couldn't know about Option 3, and, as far as they knew, no others of the wizards knew about it, either. Their fate was in the hands of their former prisoner and his wife. And while Isaac said stoutly that they had looked after him very well, and that he'd had little but kindness from them all, Mark remembered him being starved by Greenspan, threatened by Forster, and mostly, being overwhelmed and drugged in the middle of the night, not so long ago. Don't do it to me, Mark, he'd cried.

Henry Bellamy was requested to attend Azkaban, the Wizard Prison, with his wife, participate in a meeting where certain evidence was presented, and give his opinion. But John, when told, looked at his wife, and his voice was a fearful whisper, "Azkaban?"

Pat looked at the way he trembled, said calmly that obviously that wasn't suitable, and that other arrangements had to be made.

John still shrank from meeting more people who knew him well, who knew his history, and yet of whom he had no memory. For some reason, the name of Azkaban had frightened him badly, a memory or a fear, he presumed, from deep within. Aside from somehow finding his way home, he had yet to know a single memory of his old life. He didn't expect to. It was still as if he just hadn't lived very long.

Pat would have preferred that Bellamy was left out of the decision-making, but he was insistent that the two medj should just be allowed to go, while everyone else thought there should be punishment. It was finally agreed that the Committee would meet at Bellamy's home, review the main evidence, and make the decision there. Ten o'clock, Thursday, January fourteenth. Dieter visited again the day before, and made arrangements with Pat and Kitty. They would meet in the staff dining room, which was large enough for all the participants, and film viewing facilities would be organised.

He didn't see Bellamy, who was at Paul's place, talking to horses, and being told what his own requirement for the Line of Sheba was, that the horses should be clever horses. John didn't want to make any culls at that time, not having the confidence to make the call. Instead, he told Paul again about Naji, and also about the dearest little mare called Bess. Paul assumed that Bellamy had been in an institution somewhere, but obviously one in which he was treated very well. He followed the guidelines they'd all been given. Talk, make explanations, don't ask questions, and that there was no need to mention his great age or his unique abilities. Paul assumed that he would have lost his unique abilities in any case. The Cha Keeyo Curse! It was miraculous that he'd come back!

None of the committee members were too old to apparate, and apparation was normal and natural for competent wizards. The medj would be brought as apparation passengers by aurors. Thursday morning, three senior witches and wizards in their robes, plus two medj and five uniformed aurors, appeared in the apparation zone at the home of the great wizard. Each of them made a noise as they appeared, ranging from a fairly faint pop to a loud crack.

It was frightening for Mark and Isaac, each of them with a large auror holding them securely. But after a second's shaking their heads and getting their bearings, Isaac nudged Mark and pointed. Full tilt around a track not far away, two horses galloped, racing. A redheaded woman was in front on a glossy black horse, and they were sure it was John close behind her, on a white horse. Each of them wore capes that streamed out behind them.

Forgetting their uncertain fate, both Isaac and Mark smiled in delight. "Must be his wife," commented Isaac.

"Madam Patricia Howard is his wife," stated Dieter, frowning. "She'll be waiting at the house, no doubt." He had a great respect for Pat, and didn't like the idea that some might think a younger wife more suitable for the great wizard.

The sight was giving pleasure to others, as well. "Isn't he wonderful!" said Jill. "To come back after a thing like that."

Gerard Innes said, smiling, "No-one else would have done. No-one else would even have been able to escape the medj prison, not without a wand."

Mark asked, "But couldn't another wizard have apparated? No-one used a wand when we apparated."

Gerard explained, "It doesn't have to be waved, but it needs to be held, or at least, somewhere on the person, usually in a wand pocket."

The white horse flashed past the black as they passed through a high red and white archway, which was apparently the finishing post, as the horses pulled up, plunging. The riders were laughing together, in joy of life, as the others watched.

"Good to see him like that," said Isaac to Mark.

The senior witch who'd been introduced as Madam Potter, said in a cold and condemning tone, "Yet you kept him a prisoner." They didn't answer.

It wasn't a white horse after all, they discovered, as John rode over to them. Halfway there, the horse suddenly reared and started plunging, as John stared. It became apparently better behaved, and John rode over, ignoring the others and stopping in front of Dieter. "You didn't tell me you were bringing the prisoners here. I do not want them on my property."

Dieter said calmly, "They have a right to defend themselves and watch the evidence presented."

The horse reared in his face, although not endangering him. It wore a halter, with reins attached, but was not saddled. "They are my gaolers! I do not want them here!"

Dieter caught the horse by a rein. "Bellamy, be reasonable. You didn't agree that they should be charged, so if you want to put your point of view, it either has to be here, the Ministry, or Azkaban, and we're here now."

Madam Wilma Potter, impressive in midnight blue robes with silver-grey embroidery, said sternly, "Don't be silly, Harry! We'll get it over with more quickly if we do it here and now."

John looked at her and slipped off his horse. Margaret led it away. Dieter calmly introduced Bellamy to the three senior members of the Wizemgamot, and then to the aurors whom he would not know, though none of them were strangers. John took close note, of the feel of the person, and of the name. He would not forget, although they had become blurry as soon as his odd coloured horse was led off. He was more polite then, as he walked with them to the house, though he spoke no word to Isaac or Mark. He didn't hold a grudge so much. Rather, their presence frightened him, as if he might suddenly find himself a prisoner again.

Dieter was very careful as he gave a brief summary of Bellamy's captivity. Bellamy was wearing his impassive face again, and only listened. One of the aurors was to work the film equipment it seemed. Dieter nodded to him, brief segments of film were shown, the initial clip of John making himself clean-shaven, Ward 3, the Observation Room, then the high, barbed wire topped fences. Dieter made comments. John looked away, although still showing no expression.

"Next we have specific instances of cruel treatment. They are in chronological order." Short film clips were shown of John being hit with a stun gun, shot in the legs, and then pacing, staggering, obviously weakened, as Dieter explained that he was refusing to accept drugged food. There was an interrogation, although not the one that ended in Bellamy flinging a chair around by a handcuff. RAB was explained in detail, and there was a piece of film that showed guards checking their RABs and looking up into the trees.

"Comments?" Dieter finished.

John stirred. "They sincerely believed they were doing the right thing keeping me captive. There was no gratuitous cruelty. Let them go."

There was a chorus of disagreement, less logic than emotion. "They starved you!" said Jill.

John shrugged, "I had the choice, and those other things, it was because I was trying to get away."

Dieter said, "In the interests of fairness, we'll show a part of the other side of the story, again in chronological order." There was a piece of film showing John's introduction to his new quarters, looking very scruffy with a short, patchy beard.

Pat touched his arm. "Promise me, you'll never grow a beard."

John lost his cool look for a moment, and his eyes gleamed with amusement. "I promise I will never grow a beard."

He was shown laughing with some soldiers at lunch, using some exercise equipment, though with ribs very clearly visible, cantering Bess, two guards on taller horses close behind, and then, looking a lot healthier, playing water polo. The final shot was as he ate ice-creams with three soldiers, one a pretty woman. Even the whispered suggestion to the woman that resulted in a laughing shake of the head was shown. Mark spoke up for himself. "He asked that the store carry ice-creams, and I arranged it for him, even when it was winter."

John regarded him with some merriment on his face. "Yes, but I asked for twenty-four varieties, and there were only eighteen!" There was a chorus of laughter. John asked again, "So how about you just let them go."

Madam Parker, a thin woman with spectacles, said, "I notice that in every one of those pictures, there are always guards, not far away. There seem to be about seven surrounding him in that last one where he's eating an ice-cream, not counting the ones keeping him company. It must have made him feel very insecure."

Mark said, "The night after he asked for ice-creams, he made it out of his locked room, past his two personal guards, through both sets of barbed wire topped fences, also well guarded, two electrified fences, and would almost certainly have escaped if he hadn't collapsed, ill. The guards were needed."

Dieter said, "I want to show one more piece of film before any decision is made. Watch carefully. I suspect that Colonel Bedville may not know of this film."

The opening shots showed John lying in a hospital bed, but muttering and moving his head. John didn't want to see this, and quietly rose from his chair and took a position leaning on the wall. Pat looked after him, worried, but stayed in her place. The picture was crystal clear to John, even when he looked away from the screen.

"It's abbreviated, of course," said Dieter, "Already edited when discovered. Time and date are clearly shown, top righthand corner."

Removal of the feeding tube was shown. John's face, as he leaned casually against the wall, was impassive, but he felt humiliated. He didn't want people to see this sort of thing. He supposed there'd be a urine bag, too. There always was when he'd been unconscious for a while.

Gerard Innes glanced at him, suddenly acutely sorry for him. He'd hate it if it was himself.

Isaac saw himself swearing as John hit away his hand, then more sedative and then wrist restraints. Dieter said quietly, "He always panicked when restrained, which they knew, but a comment tells us that he wasn't supposed to wake up for a while to come."

"The eighteenth December," commented Jill Parker. "Is this when he escapes?"

Dieter nodded. "Soon."

The awakening, a scream and a brief struggle against the restraints before they vanished, and John was on his feet. Still naked, but scar blazing. He looked around, and soldiers, nurse and doctor dropped. The female nurse stared, terrified. And then the naked patient vanished into thin air.

The screen divided, Ward 3, the Observation Room, and John's tree, where he was seen after a moment, climbing and sitting in his customary perch, as Nicki checked the fallen men, and stated that they seemed all right.

Ward 3 dissolved, and the screen divided back into two. The Observation Room was shown, as Colonel Bedville gave the order that John was to be disabled. "Use Option 3, Disable him."

Mark flinched. He'd been confident by this stage that it wouldn't come out. What hope had they now of being returned unharmed? He glanced quickly at John, whose cool eyes were on him.

The picture of John jerking and screaming in sudden pain the instant that Brett pressed the red button, was very clear. A glimpse of a fist, and the screen showing John went blank. The screen was still divided. Brett had left it like that for effect. Live action in one, and a blank screen on the other side. Monotonously, the graph lines showing pulse, blood pressure, muscle tension, from RAB, as well as brain waves from CUZ, wavered along the bottom of the screen.

Mark Bedville's decision, End it. The black button. Brett's voice,protesting.And then Mark took the device from him, pressed in some numbers, and then firmly pressed in the black button. The graph lines ceased, it seemed as he did it, but must actually have been an instant before. The portion of the screen that had showed John now slowly closed, and the whole picture was just the Observation Room. Somebody asked if they were to retrieve the body for dissection. Mark's voice was flat as he said that John was to be taken to his own room. And then Mark walked away.

There was a pause, even with some music that swelled as a final scene was shown. It appeared that Brett had come to the same conclusion as Mark. A hawk was seen rising from the trees, and flying east, toward the rising sun.

There had been a rapt silence in the room. The deep breaths of the audience clearly visible as the tension dissolved.

Bellamy broke it. He said casually, "So what? Isn't it only what the Ministry has tried to do to me from time to time? Let them go."

They stared at him in disbelief, and argument started. Pat went to him, and wound an arm around him. "Are you all right?" she asked very quietly.

John squeezed her. "I'll be glad when it's over."

He looked around at the vociferous argument that had developed. It seemed that the medj had been forgotten as Bellamy's statement about the Ministry was argued. Gerard Innes was refusing to believe that Bellamy was ever attacked by the Ministry, but Professor Parker was a teacher, and Bellamy's past was a part of history. She knew he was right.

Dieter glanced around. "We'll break for lunch."

Mark and Isaac were accompanied by two grim-faced aurors when they were allowed out for a breath of fresh air. Isaac glanced over at Bellamy not far away. It was not only his cape that made him look different, but his whole bearing had changed. Pat watched him with a slightly worried frown, as he spoke to the senior wizards and witches of the Wizemgamot. He was arguing for his gaolers, she knew.

Mark and Isaac were not invited to join the meeting as the decision was made. Instead, the aurors, Steve and Larry, at their request, allowed them to stroll around the property, merely staying close. They were hardly about to escape - only medj after all.

Mark pointed to Isaac, "Lots of coloured lights! He told Stan and I not so long ago, that he'd have lots of lights, lights of all colours, so that others might call it vulgar, but it would look like nothing but Christmas."

"Didn't you tell me he also wanted seven sisters and three brothers?"

Larry, who'd been listening, gave a crack of laughter at this. "Only child, I'm afraid! He's got children, though." They heard a whistle, and turned.

When they re-entered the dining room now masquerading as something like a court room, Chief Auror, Dieter Roche, told them, quite formally, that they would not be charged with any crimes, but that they would be returned to their own world as soon as appropriate arrangements could be made.

Mark gave a sigh of relief. Isaac was regretful. He'd been having a wonderful time with Bryce - the 'mutation' was a mutual passion, and he was going to forget all about him. He didn't want to be detained in prison of course, but still... He remembered something, and Larry tapped Pat on her shoulder, and passed on the message. Pat looked, surprised, at the man whose actions had caused her husband to distrust either healers or doctors.

It was John, not Bellamy, who joined Mark. Bellamy was the assured great wizard, who'd been seen briefly as he argued for Mark and Isaac, producing that statement that was as much a surprise to himself as it was to anyone else, that killing him was only what the Ministry tried to do to him from time to time. But now that unaccustomed aura of power was dropped, and it was John, with a look of enjoyment on his face, who asked Mark if he wanted to see something interesting. Mark glanced at Larry, who nodded, but came with them, just in case.

Mark congratulated John on his Christmas lights. John smiled. "Pat says we can have them longer than usual this year, but they definitely have to be taken down at the end of January." Facility 19 didn't come into the conversation, except that John pointed at the high fence. "I'm the boss here, so I had the fence punched full of holes."

And then he took Mark to the Old Horses' Paddocks, three large adjoining paddocks, all with warmed shelters, where over a hundred horses were coddled. "Mostly retired brood mares," Mark was told, "It seems I own the Line of Sheba stud, although the white ones and a few others are from an Andalusian stud."

Mark wasn't sure whether to be amused or bored when he was told about the individual mares, so many of whom, according to John, were the dams of champions. "Two foals of that black mare, Shiralee, have been to the Olympics." John had been talking to Victor, who knew their history, but from his demeanour, one wouldn't have known that it was not firsthand knowledge.

Larry had his eyes on Bellamy. He'd known him well, but he knew he was not remembered at all. It hurt a little, and he wondered how difficult it was for his family to understand that they were strangers.

Meantime, Pat was being fully briefed on the fact that her husband routinely collapsed in great pain that lasted for hours, and followed by more hours of a state of unconsciousness that often showed EEG patterns akin to coma. Pat was surprised. "There's been nothing like that, and he's been home since Christmas Eve!"

Isaac smiled. "Every time he's free of them for a time, he says it'll probably never happen again. But you have to know. I've known him rendered helpless for a month at a time. And if he's alone, he might die of exposure in this weather."

Pat stared at him, and suddenly shivered. "He disappeared for hours on Boxing Day, about four in the afternoon to very late at night. It was snowing. I thought he'd left us, but maybe it was that."

Isaac nodded. "Almost certainly, I'd say. I can't imagine him leaving the home he'd just found."

Pat spoke quietly. "Thanks for telling me." Isaac nodded.

Pat frowned at him. "I was in favour of having you charged and imprisoned. It was Henry, and only Henry, that got you off. In spite of RAB and in spite of Option C."

Isaac reddened and said defensively, "Well, maybe now I've saved his life. He obviously didn't want to tell you."

Pat hesitated. Henry hadn't wanted her to know, although she didn't know why. But within a short time, Archie and Ursula were also being briefed, especially Ursula who was a nurse.

John was showing Mark the walled garden. "Cold and bare now, of course, but Pat said she loves it." Larry, at a hint from John, waited outside, out of earshot. John spoke abruptly, "How are they treating you there?" and he spoke that word that sent a shudder through him, "Azkaban."

Mark glanced at him, "Very reasonably. It's not so nice being a prisoner, of course, but we'll be gone, I guess, in a day or two."

John was frowning. "Memory modification. They say they do it all the time, but it doesn't sound ethical to me."

Mark suddenly shivered. "Is that what was done to you?"

"What was done to me is nothing like what they're talking about with you and Isaac, and all the other soldiers they found as well. It's just a minor and precise change, they told me. You won't wind up like me."

Mark sighed. "It may not seem ethical to you, but I can see why it's thought necessary. We had one wizard in our hands, and look what we did to you."

John shrugged. "It's over now. And I could have had it an awful lot worse."

Mark grinned and started moving toward the gate. "You know you gave Forster those boils!"

John stopped and stared at him. "I don't know how to give anyone boils!"

Mark said, "There were indications when you woke very briefly, and then Dieter told me you sometimes used to do that to people who tried to kill you."

John was a little troubled. "Has he still got boils?"

"I don't know." They turned and started walking again, a cat now at John's heels, quickly joined by two more.

Mark said, "You know when you left, and we all thought you were dead, there was almost a mutiny? The soldiers were furious with us. And when we searched, we had to team a Force B man with a Force A man, just to make sure that they wouldn't just pass you by."

John grinned. "It didn't work. I must have looked pitiful, because two found me, one aimed a rifle, then he changed his mind, and they passed me by."

Mark said with difficulty, "We did try and look after you. There was even to be a new girlfriend."

"I always knew, of course, that Clare reported on me, but all the same, I was very grateful to have her."

Mark said nothing. John paused in his walking, tilting his head slightly, and then said definitely, "No. She's not dead. She just left, is all."

Mark stared, and then said softly, "There was a suicide note. She said it was too hard."

John shook his head. "She just wanted to get away then, maybe. Because I can feel her and she's alive."

"How can you feel her, John?" asked Mark.

John quickened his steps, feeling suddenly a little panicky, and said nothing. It might be an unusual ability, and one should never show when you could do things that others couldn't.

Mark glanced at his face. The confidences were over, it seemed. He wondered how deep ingrained was his instinct for hiding his abilities. He tried another question. "Did the Ministry really try and kill you? Or did you just say that?"

John just walked, thinking. Finally, he said, "I don't know why I said that, but from the argument afterwards, there must have been some foundation." But then he called over God Wot? and Mark laughed with him at the horse's bizarre appearance. He was given the story of the unauthorised matings, too. John said, "If I'd had the brains of God Wot?, I might have been gone a lot sooner."

They were leaning on the fence, looking over at the riding horses and ponies. Mark said quietly, "I'm glad you got away." John accepted the simple statement. There was a lot more meaning behind it than the bare words.

John no longer remembered that his home was hidden by enchantments. But after the handshaking and the goodbyes, only Dieter and Bruce, who'd been told the coordinates by Bellamy himself, would remember them for long. There were several others in the Ministry who knew, and not all of them were supposed to know. It was time to renew the enchantments, but John had forgotten all his old skills, and was frightened of starting attacks of pain again if he used magic. Pat crossed her fingers and hoped for the best.

That night, John slept very badly. Seeing Mark and Isaac, and maybe also the talk of Azkaban, had re-awoken fears. He fretted, was soothed by Pat, slept for a little, and started muttering and fidgeting again. Repeatedly through the night. Pat was able to prevent his nightmares taking their full course, but John woke very early, while Pat slept late.

Archie's first job of the day, even before he had breakfast, was to check the heated, indoor pool and the spa, ensuring they were always sparkling, ready for use. But here was the boss, who could collapse almost without warning, alone in the swimming pool. It was obvious that at least two had to be with him whenever he swam, or was even in the spa. There were grumbles, but a few minutes later, it seemed that Peter and Margaret also fancied an early morning swim. John was a little surprised to see them there. Although heated, the pool was not much used in the middle of winter.

He and Pat were alone at breakfast. John was cheerful, carefree. Mark and Isaac would be gone back to their world, he was no longer a prisoner, and the weather, when he looked outside, was windy. He liked the wind, there was something within him that always responded to wild weather. Pat looked tired, even a little grumpy. So it was a surprise when she said that she wanted to join him when he rode on the moors. Pat viewed riding as of use, occasionally, for specific purposes. To her, it was not a pleasure in itself. But John was pleased. Pat was perfect. He liked to be with Pat.

Warm jackets, not capes, as they were going off the property, and capes, even on such a cold day, were not common wear. Pat looked a little disapprovingly at her husband. He hadn't bothered with a saddle, and the clownish horse was so conspicuous. Her mount, Badham, was a bay, properly saddled and bridled. It was a quality horse, but an easy ride now that Margaret had persuaded it that other riders didn't approve of bucking just because the boss did. His age helped, too.

Edward Lockwood, the local lord's son, was out exercising his hunter, as he did most days.

John casually waved, but Edward turned his eyes away. He knew it was a local, as he'd seen him around before, but he looked like a gipsy, his horse not even saddled. He supposed he couldn't afford the tack, though the middle-aged woman beside him was on a decent horse.

"Edward Lockwood," said Pat. "I have a feeling Margaret would like to meet him, but they're snobs, of course."

"Well, we're snobs, too, aren't we?" said John. "We don't socialise among the locals."

"It's dangerous to make friends with medj. Too likely that they notice what we are. Or what you are. I'm medj myself, of course."

John turned to her in surprise, "Are you?"

Pat nodded. "Sorry. I forgot there's so much you don't know."

John flushed. He was trying very hard to remember everything he was told, but there were things that found him out. He wondered if he'd ever feel confident again in this world.

Pat was shivering. "Ready to go back now?"

John nodded, but reluctantly. He hadn't even galloped. But Pat was his adored wife and maybe there was something else they could do when they got home.

They did do something else when they got home, and in the afternoon, Margaret, on Sirius, was happy to gallop as fast as he wanted.

He didn't notice how rarely he was quite alone. There were always people around, and he liked it like that. He managed to find the old lady, Clare Dearborn, between paintings, and she started talking. Quietly, encouraging with an occasional comment, John listened as Clare told him how she'd first married Caradoc, her husband, who'd been so wonderful. Clare reminisced, pleased to have someone listening so attentively. "He wrote books," she was saying. "Books of philosophy mostly, as you know."

John didn't say he didn't know.

"He was very old when he knew it was time to go. There comes a time, of course, for us all. And I held him tight, and he stopped breathing and he left me." They were quiet.

Clare started again. "I wouldn't have had him if it wasn't for you. You pulled him out of a spell, and then you brought him here. Several years later, he found me, and we married. He gave me what I needed, and I think I gave him what he needed."

"How long were you married?" John asked, and Clare told him. John made no indication, but it was more evidence of what he was beginning to suspect, that he might be very old, a lot older than his wife.

Clare remembered that they were not supposed to tell him yet that he was special, but thought it was nonsense. He had to know some time. But now she looked at him irritably, and told him to go. She was sick of him, and she needed to do something else now. Clare had always been odd, now she no longer bothered with conventions of manners. John just rose and thanked her for her time. Clare grunted, and watched after him. More lives than an alley cat, she thought.

Pat asked him again about seeing a healer. He was adamant in his refusal. Pat sighed. He used to do what she said. She guessed he didn't remember that.

***chapter end***