September 2: Night
It was not the most dignified way to attend a meeting. I was propped up in bed, with the others arranged in a circle around me. The infirmary had been changed to a meeting room, with comfortable chairs, and side tables. Molly Weasley sat next to me, determined to mother me as though I were her own kin. Neville sat on my other side, looking nervously at Peeves, who floating in the air between us. Everyone settled into place. Madam Pomfrey excused herself, moving to the doorway to intercept any callers. I looked past the Weasleys at Hagrid, who was putting the Sorting Hat on a stool between Dumbledore and himself. The wand seller, Mr. Olivander, completed our group.
"Shall we start," Dumbledore asked? "I fear this will be a long meeting, so let us try to stick to the essentials. There will be time enough to go into detail. And Owen, if this becomes too much for you, let us know immediately." He gazed around the room, as though he were seeing everyone for the first time.
"Last night, we found our young friend in a serious state. Before he fell unconscious, he made a statement about our subject, Gregory Edward Wyatt. The irony is, Owen, that you said that to the only people who already understood."
I had been expecting this but it still came as a shock to actually hear the words. It was also a relief to know that I did not have to deal with this alone.
"I," said the Sorting Hat, "should repeat my words of last night. Our two new partners need to here them. First, I stated that the boy, Wyatt, was not eleven. As I read his mind, I noticed that he remembered events and details of his supposed life but that none of these memories are more than five weeks old. He has neither lost any memories, nor had any memories erased. These would leave traces. Since the human brain begins recording memories even before birth, Gregory Wyatt did not exist as a human being before July 25 of this year. I had said earlier that he appeared benign, but we may have to rethink that point."
"There is one thing I don't understand," Molly Weasley said, "If the boy suddenly 'appeared,' Why did he appear in this form?" "Why a beggar?" She asked, "Why would he appear as a ragged beggar? That doesn't make sense." The others agreed, but could not give any reasons.
"Ye don't see him," I said, weakly.
"The boy, the boy," Peeves called out. "He has something, he has."
"Ye don't see him," I repeated. I looked around at confused faces, and faltered. Dumbledore urged me to finish my thought. "The poor, the tinkers, the beggars, they're always around. But they aren't the right sort. So when ye see 'em, ye don't. Ye look past 'em, or tay the other side of the street. As long as he avoids the 'proper authorities' he can stand in the middle of the street all day, and no one will notice."
"He's right," Arthur Weasley said, "When we were at the station, and Fred called my attention to him, I looked up and saw the station attendant. I didn't even notice the boy until I followed the attendant's gaze. The boy wasn't a threat so I had ignored him."
"Shall I tell you of his brother?" the Sorting Hat asked. The silence that followed this request was agreement enough. "Timothy Wyatt appears to be six years old. His memories also tell a different story. Unlike his brother, Timothy shows multiple signs that his memory has been tampered with. He has memory blocks so strong I cannot penetrate them. He has had memories removed outright, on occasions too numerous to count. This makes it difficult to determine his actual age just by reading his mind. He is at least ten years older than his physical age suggests, and it is likely that he is more than twenty years older."
"Albus," Madam Pomfrey said from her spot by the doorway, "I want to note that I physically examined both boys. They both appear to be in excellent health for their respective ages. I wish to also note, that this contradicts their supposed lifestyle. They have been living on the streets, yet they should show no signs of vitamin deficiency or malnutrition."
"I guess it's my turn, now," Arthur Weasley said, squeezing his wife's hand in reassurance. "We managed to meet Gregory at the entrance to the Platform, and helped him though. He had a wand with him, and a questionable story, so Molly and I chose to err on tthe boy's behalf. As Molly told me, 'If there is a problem, it's best to know where he is.'"
"It was when we were leaving," Arthur continued, "that Timmy approached us, asking if his brother was alright. We coaxed him into coming with us..."
"Arthur," Molly interrupted, "you should tell them how it happened. Timmy was nervous when he approached us, and after we assured him that his brother was fine, he started to run. Arthur cast a return spell on the boy, and knelt down as Timmy returned. He told the boy, 'Never try to run away from a wizard.' When Arthur said that, the little boy changed his entire attitude. We didn't have to coax him. He would have done anything to stay with us."
Arthur squeezed Molly's hand in thanks, saying, "That's why you are here. I would have glossed over that part, and it could be important." Turning back to the group, he said, "After that Timothy Wyatt was willing to answer every question we asked. He has a fairly extensive knowledge of Greater London, but cannot remember where he lived, except that it was by a library. He knows every major road in the city, but could not tell me the closest one to his neighborhood. As we now know, he has probably lived everywhere, at some point.
"One last point, Timothy told us that Gregory wanted him to go, but he refused. He told his brother to go ahead without him, and that they would meet at the usual spot. Again, Timothy could not tell us where this spot was."
Since I was at the scene, I used that as a pretext to assume charge of the case, as it should have been a minor matter. I used the ministry facilities to search for any information on the two boys, but I found nothing. I've taken the steps of having Scotland Yard do a muggle-style search for any information on the boys. I must tell you, they were a bit amused at the request. They don't usually do searches for 'found' children. And I should also warn you, we will have to deal with someone from social welfare, as a result of my report. If we can come up with a family to foster them, we may be able to keep them from being taken into custody as wards of the crown."
"Can't we just erase their memories?" asked Neville, "the muggle authorities, that is."
"We can," Arthur laughed, "but then they won't remember to do the records search for us."
"Hoist by our own petard," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "We think ourselves so clever, that we can't imagine having to play by muggle rules, even for a little while. I suppose we will need an upstanding family to cover for us."
"The Grangers, sir," said Hagrid. "I've Hermione babysitting the little one, Timmy, down at my hut. We tired him out this afternoon by playing fetch with Fluffy. She's taken with him, and her parents are muggles."
"Hagrid, uh, isn't Fluffy that three-headed dog.?" I asked.
"Aye, he is," Hagrid answered, "and right friendly he is, too."
"But Hagrid, he's so big what kind of ball did ye use?"
"Aw, we didn't use a ball, we used Timmy. Yer sees, we let the lad run out across the field, and when he got far enough away, I'd send Fluffy to fetch him back. It was great watching him scamper after the tyke, then picking him up in one of his mouths. Fluffy would even toss him in the air, from head to head, as he ran back."
He finally noticed the look of utter disbelief on my face, and stopped his description with the words, "It was great fun, really. 'Course Timmy needed a bath real bad when we were done."
"Getting back to the point," Mr. Olivander said, "I don't think it wise to send either child to a muggle home, or any other place outside the school. Despite what we have just heard, I think we should consider Hagrid as the proposed foster father for these children."
Molly Tried to stifle a laugh. "Mr. Olivander, you must be joking? What would these muggles think if they found out that he uses children as play toys for his pet?"
The wand maker refused to back down. "In the proper context, Mrs. Weasley, they would likely take this as a positive. Hagrid is a professional in the field of animal care. Also, he has an impressive record of being able to handle children on a regular basis. He has a steady job, and is well respected by his employers, and his fellow employees, as well as a number of students."
Hagrid laughed, "He sounds like a great man. I'd like to meet him."
Suppressing his own laugh, Mr. Olivander continued, "That is how Hagrid would look in an official report. There is, however, a more important reason. Hagrid lives on the school grounds. We get to have it both ways. The children can be kept here and, if needs be, be kept out of the school at the same time."
"Any objections," asked Dumbledore? "Fine, we will all begin to make arrangements for our guests from social welfare." Albus permitted himself one last smile at the thought of Hagrid as an instant father, then turned to Mr. Olivander, "My good friend, could you tell us about the wand, now?'
Mr Olivander nodded. "As you know, the boy, Gregory, had a wand when he arrived. I examined it this morning when Neville brought him around to my presentation. They made it a total of five, by the way." He paused when Neville started to laugh, then continued, "Hermione Granger was also there, as were the Weasley twins. They were showing me their new line of fake wands. They are talented, but it was inappropriate to the moment.
"As I said, I examined the wand in question, It was made of Yew, 11 inches long, and had a core of what appeared at first to be unicorn hair. On closer examination, it was a hair, but I have no clue as to what type of animal it came from."
"Could it have been human or from a centaur," Arthur asked?
"No, it was nothing I could recognize."
This conclusive statement was met with silence, to be finally broken by Neville.
"It's come to me, then," he said. "I have the distinction of being the first one to notice something was wrong, that it was more than a prank by the Weasley twins. As I went to get off the train, I heard Mr. Weasley, Arthur, talking to the twins and to Gregory. I hesitated to get off, afraid that I might be drawn into the discussion."
"Thank you Neville," Arthur said, breaking into a grin, "for describing my shouting sessions so politely."
"You're welcome," Neville said with a smile. "To continue, as I hesitated I felt an urge, almost a need, to help Gregory. Suddenly, I found myself off the train and walking away. It was Arthur calling me to tell me I was walking the wrong way that made me catch myself. I realized what was happening, so I deliberately lied about losing Trevor. I then ran to Hagrid, and told him everything I could about the compulsion I was feeling. That is how I became involved in this nightmare."
I stared at him, trying to understand how Neville could say that. "He impressed all of the first-years with the way he got us into the boats. He made it seem like we were just starting our great journey to Hogwarts, instead of taking the last step. He even let us play our instruments, the Tinker and I. Almost all of the rest agreed that the music made the trip across the lake that much more grand. Add to this, that he knew about the Tinker all along. My admiration for him had risen even more. Then he called it a nightmare, as though it was something he could not get out of. If he was afraid, and kept going, how could I do any less.
"It's my turn now," I said.
"NO. My turn," said Peeves. He then proceeded to speak with what was, for him, an unnatural skill and in a serious tone. "I was watching Professor Trelawny sleep."
Peeves smiled, knowing he had everyone's attention. "She mumbles in her sleep. Sometimes she does. This time she did more. She sits up suddenly. She looked at me. She looked straight at me. And she says this: 'He has come. He walks a fearful pace. The watcher sees that he is near. The terror stalking in pleasant face, is forced to shed a bitter tear.' When she was done, she settled back to sleep. This frightened me. I fled. I fled. I sha'nt go back."
"That is significant, Peeves, if it could frighten someone like you," Dumbledore assured the Poltergeist, "When did this happen?"
Peeves shook his head, "It took place that day Neville Longbottom was born."
Neville shifted nervously at being the sudden center of attention, nor could I blame him. As it was, My turn to speak had come. Now I would be the center of attention, and add my own tale to the nightmare.
"Owen, do you feel up to it," Molly asked. I nodded, smiling to reassure her.
"I do, um, Molly, but it is hard getting used to calling so many adults by their givens."
"You'll get used to it," Neville said, forcing a grin out of me.
Trying to relax, I prepared myself to speak my part, saying softly, "Gura slan an scealai."
Dumbledore looked closely at me when I said that. "Owen, your cousin, Fiona, said the same thing as she left the infirmary earlier today. What does that mean?"
"It was a blessing my grandfather said whenever the post arrived," I told him. I looked into his eyes, and said, "May the bearer of the news be safe."
"He is born" clearly refers to Neville, and I think it is obvious who 'the terror' is. I have the feeling that I am "the watcher," although I can't say why. And then there is the last line.
"One of my favorite authors is a man by the name of Lewis Carroll," I told them. "He once wrote a poem, 'The Walrus and the Carpenter.' Is anyone else familiar with it?" Having set the stage, I began to tell my tale.
As I uttered the first words, I felt my mouth dry up. Memories, held at bay, rushed at me faster than I could speak. I felt something in my head, and I had a feeling that somehow I had hit a tripwire and set off a trap. Then everything went white, as pain coursed through my body. Almost as quickly, everything went black.
