A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad that you liked my idea of including Gildy… I love that guy! He belongs to my fav characters, so just couldn't leave him out!
chocolate candy: you asked how long the story would be. Well, quite long… lots of things will happen before it ends.
pugsie1267: you can't wait until Harry meets his child? Sorry to say that, but you'll HAVE TO wait a "bit" for that.
star queen: you'll see a bit more of Sirius, just be patient!
rangerprincess: you want to see Ginny screaming at Harry when she has morning sickness? Sorry, can't promise that. I don't want to write a whining Ginny… About Harry going back to Hogwarts… well, I can't promise that, either – but trust me to write really interesting adventures for our beloved wizard boy!
Enjoy and don't forget to review!
Chapter 14
Addressee unknown
It was already noon when another police officer (a rather tall and stout one) deigned to pay some attention to Harry and Gilderoy.
"Hello, I'm Officer Thomson. So, what's the problem?" he turned to the boy, combing his beard with his fingers. "I know what his problem is…" he pointed at the blonde man, "but what's yours? Jim told me that you are also amnesiac. Is that true?"
"Unfortunately yes, sir." Harry nodded. "That's why I'm here. Maybe you could help me… has anyone in the last few days been looking for someone who looks like me?"
The officer seized him up a bit: 180 centimetres tall, jet-black hair, green eyes and silly glasses. "Sorry, kid, but no one has reported about a missing boy with your looks."
"Then what can I do now?" Harry asked. "Whom should I ask?"
"Um, maybe we could make an announcement in the local paper showing your picture. Someone might recognise you. But that's all we can do."
"And what about my friend?" Harry pointed at Lockhart, who was humming some idiotic song – clearly had lost his memories again. "Does it help that we know his name?"
"Know his name?" the officer knitted his bushy eyebrows. "Why hasn't he told us yet then? He could have spared us and himself a lot of worry and trouble…" he leaned closer to Harry "…and you know… he is eating too much. It wasn't a pleasure for us to feed him for a whole week."
*I wouldn't think that he eats more than you.* the boy thought. "He hadn't remembered his name till this morning, sir." he assured the officer. "The recognition struck him at 9:36 a.m., if my memory serves me well. He made me get him a paper, so he could write it down. His name is Gilderoy Lockhart."
"Gilderoy Lockhart? What an unusual name." the officer frowned. "Come, kid, we shall have a look at Mr. Lockhart's files in the national police archives."
"Should I tell him to come with us?"
The officer looked at the blonde lunatic who was still humming a stupid song about the birds and the bees. "Nay. We'll be better off without him."
They entered a small room where the officer sat down before a computer and logged into the police archives. "What Lockhart?" he turned to the boy.
"Gilderoy."
"Uh-huh." the police officer nodded and typed the name into the browser. The program gave him a 'not found' notice. He re-typed the name, supposing that his pudgy fingers must have slipped when typing for the first time. They hadn't. He again received a 'not found' signal. Then he tried an international database, but no archives of the whole world contained the name of a certain Gilderoy Lockhart. "Well, kid," he turned to Harry "this friend of yours either remembered a false name, or he doesn't exist at all. Sorry, we cannot help. Maybe we should send that madman to some lunatic asylum where he'd receive treatment and might regain his memories. I suggest that you two stay here for another couple of days to see whether anyone recognises you in the newspaper. Then we'll decide what to do."
"Thank you, sir." Harry nodded. "Can I help you while I'm staying here? I don't want to be a parasite. I am ready to work."
The officer looked surprised. No one who had ever asked for their help had ever offered to compensate them. A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. He started to like this boy and wanted to help him more than he'd ever wanted to help anyone.
* * * * *
"Why have you sent for us, Professor?" Hermione asked. She, Ron and Ginny had been told to visit Dumbledore in his room but not to mention their visit to anyone. Hermione had found it incredibly suspicious. She had a feeling that something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
"Sit down, all of you, please." Albus tried to smile at them, but didn't manage. Something must have been worrying him very much.
"What happened, Professor?" Ginny asked, her face as white as a sheet. Her heart somehow suggested that Dumbledore wanted to tell them something about her Harry – something depressing, scaring or the like.
"I am sorry to tell you bad news, kids." the headmaster said sullenly. "As you all know the journalists are away, so I sent an owl to Harry saying that he can come back this morning. However, he never turned up today, and it's already 20:00. I thought that the owl must have forgot the way to Privet Drive, so I sent another, too. It returned with the letter because he couldn't find Harry at the Dursleys. Of course, all owls have to find the addressee, wherever they are, but our Harry couldn't be found."
"Why, sir?" Ron frowned. He couldn't imagine why an owl wouldn't find his friend. "What happened to him?"
"We can only guess, Ron." Dumbledore replied. "There are some very tricky charms that make it impossible for the owls to find someone who is affected by them."
"What charms?" Hermione and Ginny asked in unison.
"There are several, I'm afraid." the headmaster shook his head. "Some are performed with wands, others take effect through poisons, again others only affect when combined with curses. We don't know whether one of them is affecting Harry or he is…"
"Or he is…?" Ron raised his eyebrows.
"…dead." Dumbledore sighed. "I'm sorry, kids, but it is also a possibility. Owls never find dead people, you know."
"He isn't dead!" Ginny jumped up from her seat. "He can't be dead, professor! I'd feel it… feel it in my heart! Harry is alive and will come back to me!" her eyes filled with desperate tears. "He'll come back…" she burst out crying. Hermione stood up and embraced her.
"Take Ms. Weasley back to her dormitory, Ms. Granger." Albus said.
Hermione nodded and left the room with the other girl.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Ron?"
"He isn't dead, is he? You'd know if he were dead, wouldn't you?"
Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh. "No, Ron, I wouldn't. I'm just a crazy old sorcerer who can't tell the future and can't see other places and people in visions. I don't have an Inner Eye, like Professor Trelawney."
Ron let out a groan. "Please, Professor, never again mention that old fraud to me, 'cause I'll freak out."
Dumbledore looked amused by Ron's remark. Another student who realised what useless a teacher Sybill was. "Okay, Mr. Weasley, I promise not to mention Professor Trelawney again, if you also promise to keep our discussion a secret and help your sister through this crisis. The loss of Harry is distressing all of us, but no one will suffer as much as her. Should we never find Harry alive, she'll have to bring up that poor child alone." in thought he added: *If at all.*
"She'll never be alone, sir." Ron replied. "I'll be there for her as a loving uncle. I don't think that any child in England could have as many loving uncles as Ginny's baby."
"True." Albus gave him a faint smile. "But not ever six uncles can substitute for a father… and Harry would have been a terrific father… maybe he'd even be one, sometime… we can never know what the future has in store for us."
"We'll find Harry, sir." Ron answered. "I'll never give up hope. Neither will Ginny."
The headmaster nodded seriously. "Hope is all that is left for us."
* * * * *
Draco was walking down a deserted corridor when he met Hermione and the sobbing Ginny.
"What happened to you, Weasley? Has your father lost that ramshackle house of yours, too? Is the family going to move into a dog-kennel?" Malfoy asked with a malicious grin.
"Beat it, Malfoy!" Hermione retorted and led her friend upstairs.
"Hey, Weasel, I can get your father a new job in the MGM!"
Ginny, no matter how worn she was, turned back to him with an interested look on her tear-soaked face. Hermione also got curious. "MGM? You mean Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer?"
"Huh?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "No idea what you are talking about, Granger. I meant MGM, the Magical Garbage Men." he smirked at Ginny. "Your father would be an excellent member of the dustman brigade. And your mother could work for mine, washing socks..."
That was the last straw for Ginny. She jumped down from the fifth stair and lunged at Malfoy, pummeling him with her tiny – but quite hard – fists. "This for mocking my mother… that for making ridicule of my father… and this for always decrying my whole family!" she yelled, her fists falling thick and fast on Draco. The boy was so shocked by the sudden fit of fury that he didn't even try to defend himself at first. When he realised that the youngest Weasley was going to beat the crap out of him if he didn't do something, he tossed Ginny away and grabbed his wand to strike down on her with a spell – but Hermione was quicker.
"Locomotor Mortis!" she shouted and Draco fell on the floor, his legs and arms bound together.
That was when Ginny realised what she had done. She looked down on Malfoy, gasping for breath, rearranging her dishevelled hair. "Thanks, Herm." she mumbled finally.
"You are always welcome." the other girl smiled at her. "Especially when Draco is concerned." they exchanged wicked grins and burst out laughing.
"You'll pay for this, Granger!" Malfoy cried. "And you, Weasel, shouldn't do such hard exercises, or you'll lose your little bastard!"
"Bastard?" Ginny hissed and was about to run back to the lying Draco and kick him, but Hermione caught her robes and held her back.
"Hey, he isn't worth the trouble. And you've given him enough for today, I think."
Ginny's lips tucked into a smirk. "You are right. Good night, Malfoy. Hope that someone will find you here before Peeves arrives for his usual nocturnal haunt… imagine what he could do to defenceless students!"
The girls saw Draco's lips tremble. "You aren't going to leave me here, exposed to his tricks, are you?"
"Um, what do you think, Ginny, should we help him?" Hermione pretended to look worried. "Poor Draco, he'll be hung from the ceiling, or… well, Peevsie is really creative… so, should we help him or just leave him here?"
"Let's have a show of hands!" Ginny suggested. "Those who think we should leave him here, put up their hands!" her hand shot into the air.
Hermione contemplated her choice for a minute or so, just to set Draco's nerves on edge. She looked down on the boy, then back at Ginny. "Okay." she put her hand up. "It seems that Malfoy cannot raise his hand in his present condition. But who cares? Even if he'd do so, we'd still have qualified majority. Sorry, Draco…" she grinned. "Give our best regards to Peeves."
And with that the two girls turned on their heels and went upstairs.
* * * * *
Dumbledore was having a nice dream about some new, fluffy earmuffs, when Professor Snape burst into his room.
"What happened?" Albus blinked and stifled a yawn. "Severus, what are you doing here at…" he looked at the clock on his bedside table, "…five o' clock? Couldn't you sleep?"
"No, Dumbledore, it's something else." Snape growled.
The headmaster saw the fury on the Potions teacher's face. "What happened for all Dementors' sake? Out with it, Severus!" he sat up and re-adjusted his night-cap that had a big, blue pompon hanging from it.
"Peeves, sir!" Snape said – or rather shouted.
Dumbledore let out a great sigh. "What has he done again?"
"He… he painted Draco Malfoy!"
"Painted?" Albus looked amused. "I didn't know he had it in him."
"What?" Snape got confused.
"The artistic sense." Dumbledore replied. "Where did he paint him? On the wall of the Great Hall, maybe?"
"No, you haven't understood me, sir!" Snape was shaking with rage. "Peeves painted Draco. In the other sense of the word."
The headmaster reached out for his half-moon spectacles and put them on to see Snape's expression clearer. "Painted him? Could I have a look at it?"
"Um, I've hidden Malfoy, because I couldn't remove the paint from his body. He looks terrible. That Peeves is a Barbarian."
"Now you've really made me interested." Dumbledore jumped out of his bed, his clothes hopped onto him and his toothbrush flew directly into his mouth. "I'll… be… reaaaady… soooon." he mumbled while the toothbrush was working in his mouth. He bent down to tie his shoelaces, then cast a last glance into his mirror, and said: "Presentable. Show the way, Severus."
Snape led Albus down into the dungeons where he'd hidden Draco to prevent him from becoming the 'centre of attention'.
Severus opened the door of his own chamber and let Dumbledore in. At first the headmaster didn't see anything in the dimly-lit room, but soon he caught a glimpse of a slightly quivering form in a corner.
"Come here, Malfoy. It's just Professor Dumbledore. He's here to help you." Snape said.
*To help him?* Albus thought. *Yeah, that too… but first of all to have a bit of fun.*
Draco stepped out of the corner, into the circle of candlelight.
Dumbledore clasped his hands in surprise. He'd expected something 'interesting', but not this. Peeves' artistic style reminded him of that of a great Muggle painter, Picasso.
Draco's blonde hair didn't show a sign of being blonde – it had blue and purple stripes in it instead. His usually pale face had Indian battle face-paint on it – depicting a snail, a hare and two orangutangs. His black robes were covered with pink and lilac flowers and tiny suns that had eyes, sunglasses and a laughing mouth.
"Now, what do you say?" Snape turned to Dumbledore.
"Oh, quite nice." Albus replied.
"Nice???" Snape and Draco yelled in chorus.
"Um, I mean… terrible, but you know, son, you could use some colour sometimes… your are always so pale as if you were ill." the headmaster smiled. "But of course I'll do everything in my power to rid you of this cheerful 'costume'… are you sure you don't want to stay that way for a while? You could bring some colour into the school's dull life." seeing the dumbfounded looks on Malfoy's and Snape's faces, Dumbledore added: "Your answer is no, right? Pity, pity…"
"I don't think that the school's life could be called dull, anyway." Severus commented. "The Potter case made it everything but dull."
"Oh, yeah… the Potter case… a difficult one, Severus. The boy is lost."
"Lost?" Snape raised his eyebrows, barely being able to suppress a huge smile of glee. Draco didn't even try to hide his smirk.
"Yes. And not even the owls can find him. I just don't know what we could do." Albus shook his head. "Do you have any ideas?"
"No… not yet, anyway. But I'll think of something, I promise." Snape replied. *Under normal circumstances I'd certainly think of something to keep Potter away from the school forever… but given that pregnancy… and everything that ensues when the child is born…* he heaved a sigh. *…like it or not, Potter has to be found.*
"Okay." Dumbledore turned to Draco. "But now, let's see to your problem, son."
* * * * *
Harry was sweeping the floor of the cell when Officer Thomson entered with a sullen expression. The boy looked up and propped the broom to the wall. "What happened, John?" he asked. The officer and he had become friends during the previous week when Harry was staying at the Police Station of Great Winging. Thomson promised him to make an inquiry in the local paper, whether someone knew Harry and the blonde guy. The newspaper, the Wings of Winging even published the two unfortunate amnesiacs' photos, but up till now no one managed to recognise either Harry or Gilderoy as their relatives or neighbours, or the like.
When John Thomson entered the cell and saw the boy sweeping the floor, a strange thought came to his mind: the boy was holding the broom in a totally funny way, as if he had been used to using it for something else than sweeping. Something else? But what??? John shook his head. He was imagining things – the boy clearly didn't understand anything about brooms - that's all.
"Well, kid, I'm sorry, but a whole week has passed since we put that article into the Wings of Winging, and there's still no result."
"Does it mean that Gilderoy and I have to leave?" Harry asked. He knew that John's morose countenance could only mean that.
"I'm sorry, kiddo. Really. I've grown to like you. You are diligent, clever, and nice to talk to. You have a way with people…"
Harry knew what John wanted to say: "…and I'll miss you, my friend, but we cannot keep you here forever. Sorry". He put his hand on Officer Thomson's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, John. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault. You really have done everything in your power to help us, and for that I'm eternally thankful to you."
A small drop of tear coursed down on John's chubby cheek. "Oh, kid, I'll miss you so much!" he pulled Harry into a bear-like hug, almost breaking Harry's bones with his outburst. Inexplicably to the boy, he had a certain feeling that he'd known someone before who had behaved and even looked a bit like John. He just couldn't remember who it was.
When Harry returned to the temporary 'bedroom' they were using in the Police Station, he saw Lockhart deeply immersed in reading a paper. It wasn't the Wings of Winging, it was an older copy of the Newsweek.
"Something interesting, Gilderoy?" he sat down next to the blonde guy.
"Excuse me? Gilderoy? Who's Gilderoy?" Lockhart gave him a confused stare.
*Arggh, another stage of his amnesia.* Harry rolled his eyes. "Listen, Gilderoy is your name. Don't you remember?"
"Nay. Do I really have such a ludicrous name?" Lockhart frowned. "And who are you?"
Harry heaved a deep sigh. It was already the sixteenth time during the week that he had to explain Gilderoy everything from the beginning. It was pretty much getting on his nerves.
"Listen, my friend. I'm your fellow sufferer in amnesia. But our sorts of amnesia are very different. Mine is a permanent one, but I remember everything from the time I lost my memories. It was a week ago. You have something totally different. You sometimes remember things, then forget them again, and you always remember different things. A week ago you remembered your name for two minutes, and you wrote it down. Then you seemed to recall something about your job, but I think that it was only your imagination."
"Why, what did I recall?"
"You were in the firm belief that you were a sorcerer." Harry shrugged. "You saw this staff of mine," he pulled out the rod from his pocket, "and you said that I was also a magician, and this was a wand."
Harry couldn't explain to Gilderoy why he hadn't got rid of the 'wand' since then. He had a thousand chances to throw it away, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it – and had no idea why.
Lockhart raised a finely shaped eyebrow. "You are still doubting it, aren't you?" an unaccustomed light was sparkling in his eyes. Harry supposed that the blonde guy must just have been struck by a new memory.
"Of course I am." he replied. "That's crazy… totally absurd, Gilderoy."
"You are talking just like the Muggles." he said with a hint of pity and disdain in his voice.
"Like the who?" Harry blinked.
"Huh?" Lockhart shuddered, and put on an idiotic face. His memories were gone once again.
"Nothing." the boy sighed. He decided not to explain Gilderoy the whole story once more. Next day, maybe – when they'd leave the office, but surely not now.
Harry lied down to have some sleep – very possibly the last good night's sleep for a long time – when his companion let out a small cry.
*Oh, no, what has he remembered again?* the boy groaned inwardly. "What happened, Gilderoy?"
"I've found it, I've found it!" the man kept yelling.
"Found what?" Harry yawned.
"The solution! Look at this!" he handed the Newsweek to the boy. The weekly was open on the seventh page, where a big article about Egypt could be seen.
"What solution?" Harry asked, looking at the pyramids. The picture seemed a bit familiar, but he couldn't remember seeing the Weasley family before the same pyramids four years earlier. "Have you finally remembered that you used to be a camel drover in Egypt?"
Lockhart fervently shook his head, his blonde locks flitting in the air. "I've just remembered that I knew an old man called Abysmal-sun Amun there… write down his name, right now!"
Harry jotted it down, though he couldn't understand why Gilderoy needed the name of an Egyptian guy. "And?" he asked.
"And? Well, he is one of the greatest African wizards, kid! He knows the ways to give back the memories of people who lost them! We have to go to him!"
*Oh, not again this crazy wizard-thing!* Harry sighed. "Go to Egypt?"
Lockhart nodded. "Exactly. Go the Egypt."
A/N2: see… Harry isn't going back to Hogwarts yet, but will have really extreme adventures!
Review, please!