Disclaimer: With sadness, I must declare, that I don't own any of the characters or places related to Harry Potter. They are, if fact, the property of J.K.Rowling. This here is fanfiction. Which means I borrow her characters to write my own story with them and you are free to read or not read it. It doesn't affect my bank account anyway... *grin*
A/N: This story is the fruit of my (very) sick fantasy. I still can't believe I actually made it as far as this. I mean - we ARE talking about chapter eleven, for Pete's sake! When I started the story I was sure it won't go over chapter eight!
And as always, this is beta read by Luinthoron. Which doesn't mean my request from last chapter doesn't count anymore. Of course it does. So please if someone is interested in reading the chapters for "The Spy in the Inner Circle" before they are released to the Net, just start beta-reading it! I'm in desperate need for a beta whose first language is English.
--Altair
Chapter Eleven: The Man Without Memory
Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a man. He was no ordinary man.
He was, in fact, a wizard. And then he was caught in an explosion. And that
explosion caused him to lose his memory. Months did go by and he still
didn't know who he was. He lived a quiet life in a small town in England,
not recalling his past. He tried everything, he was seeing the best doctors
the Muggle-world could provide him with, but his Amnesia didn't heal. He was
living in a small cottage as an ordinary Muggle. And then the men in black
robes found him. They found him and told him who he was. They told him he
was a wizard. They gave him back his wand. And they gave him back his name.
And he thought they were his friends because they told him they were. And he
trusted them. But they didn't give him back the thing he missed the most.
They didn't give him back his life. Instead, they gave him another one. One
that matched theirs. A black one.
He was summoned to the Dark Lord. He knew, sooner or later he would have to
face his old Master, but he still didn't feel like he was properly prepared
to face Him. Lord Voldemort was, after all, well known to have exceptionally
cruel punishments for being weak. And losing one's memory wasn't exactly something you could call someone strong for. No, he felt like he wasn't so
strong at all after all. And he felt like he had betrayed his Master by
losing his memory. After all, he couldn't remember any of these things his
friends had been speaking about. All those raids of Muggle-torturing,
killing the protectors of the Light Side, all those wonderful little parties
where some Muggle and Mudblood girls had participated... He didn't remember
any of it. And far, far worse. He didn't even remember his Master. He was
feeling almost terrified. Was the Dark Lord angry with him for losing all
his memory about Him? He dreaded to think of what his Lord might do to him
for having associated with Muggles and not killing any of them. Even worse,
he had found a new liking for those people (if you could call someone, who
had no magical abilities at all, people...) who had surrounded him in those
past months. How long had it been? He had been in that hospital for about a
month... Then he had been released from the hospital, but that nice doctor,
her name had been Lilith, had offered him a job as her personal secretary.
This job had made it possible for him to survive the following four-or-so
months. May she rest in peace (to not say pieces...). To make his conscience
shut up, he had provided her with a burial ceremony no-one in town had ever
seen before. Anyway... Her face, as he had performed the curse on her... it
had been priceless. Her last dying words, her last dying thoughts had been
for him. Somehow it had made him feel better. And for all it mattered - she
hadn't been able to help him remember. So she really wasn't worthy of
living. Anyone could see this, right? Even she couldn't possibly find
anything to say against it. And for all it mattered, he had made it as
painless as ever possible for her and prevented her from the pain and shame
of being the hostess on one of the famous parties. That was all he had been
able to do for her for saving his life. No-one would ever be able to say, he
didn't repay his life debts. No-one.
The Dark Lord was sitting in his favorite chair, observing the flames in the
fireplace. This promised to be one of his most glorious hours. One of
Dumbledore's best and most trusted men on his side... This was something he
had always wanted. He had too few good positioned spies in Dumbledore's
ranks. Arthur Weasley was the only one of them he had complete trust in. It
was really hard to find loyal followers these days. Ever since that fiasco
with that Potter-boy over fifteen years ago, people just wouldn't assume he
was invincible, anymore that was. They used to think otherwise before. And
he was determined to prove, he was. That's why he needed the Potter-boy
dead. He was the living reminder of his weakness, of his temporary fall. He
couldn't allow that kid to live. And now, with a little help from his newly
found loyal follower... he grinned. This was going to be so easy. The boy
trusted this new servant. He had been one of the boy's father's best friends
and the thought of his death had almost crushed the boy. Oh, yes. The
wizarding world assumed the new follower to have died half a year ago in an
explosion that had wiped the house the Potter-boy had been living in with
his relatives for almost fifteen years, from the face of the earth. Many had
happened since. They had found Pettygrew's dead body and many wizards had
began to doubt Black's guilt. While still on run, he seemed to have good
chances to clear his name. Of course, if the Ministry didn't find him first.
Minister Fudge, as always, managed to be as dense (and helpful) as ever and
had set the imprisoning of Sirius Black as the highest priority for all
Aurors and Ministry wizards, much to the Dark Lord's amusement. The boy
hadn't been placed in a Muggle orphange, after all. He and his Muggle cousin
had been adopted by a highly respected wizarding family. Namely the
Weasleys. Arthur had been in an exceptionally bad mood for weeks. But it was
profitable, too. Arthur's disguise had become a new adjustment with him as
the adoptive father of Harry Potter and a Muggle boy, and he could keep an
eye on the boy. On both of them. The charm Dumbledore had used to protect
Potter still worked, as he was still living together with someone with blood
relations to him. The same charm had been placed on Dudley. Not to mention
that it would have been highley suspicious if Arthur hadn't tried and
adopted the boys. He had been known to be very fond of the Potter-boy - a
part of his disguise, as his children were the closest friends the boy had.
As for his wife, she seemed to love the Potter-boy as much as her own
children. And that ment, Harry Potter still had more luck than brains. The
Dark Lord reached for his glass of brandy. He took a sip, and enjoyed the
taste in his mouth for a few moments, before swallowing it. Harry Potter
wasn't a problem anymore. Not with this new adjustment to his forces. No.
Now it was time to think about another wizard who had been causing him
trouble for a long time. They all thought, he was afraid of that wizard. But
that wasn't quite true. He respected him, yes, but he wasn't afraid of him.
No-one could be afraid of that good-hearted old man. He was gifted, anyone
could tell that. And he would have made an excellent ally if he would have
joined the Dark Side. But instead, he took over the lead on the Light Side,
being the leader of the Resistance. Yes. Albus Dumbledore wasn't to be
underestimated.
He looked out of the window, over the from war devastated land. He sighed.
How had the world come this far? He couldn't understand this. It had all
went so well. Life had been easy, annoying relatives or not. He had always
been able to escape into the world of magic. But now... It wasn't possible
to tell the Muggle-world and the magical community apart. Both worlds had
been caught in this war which promised to grow into the biggest and
bloodyest war the world had ever seen. Not that he had seen that much of the
world. He was only fifteen years old, for Pete's sake! But still... This war
had taken too much from him already. The numerous attacks the Death Eaters
had undertaken hadn't went without leaving their marks on the students. Many
hadn't returned from summer break. Many Muggle-born and Halfbreeds, to be
excact. Many of his friends. There were Muggle-borns and Halfbreeds who had
lived over summer and had returned, but they were very quiet and prefered
the company of each other, abandoning their Pureblood friends from before,
being scared to bring doom on them. It had been hard enough to convince
Hermione to stay with them. He and Ron had been forced to use all their
skills in convincing to make her stay and not abandon them after her house
had been attacked in late summer. Only after hearing of the attack on
Harry's relatives was it, that she decided to stand by them. But it had been
really hard to make her see, that they both were on Lord Voldemort's hit
list on the same positions as Hermie. Maybe even higher, concidering Ron
being the son of Arthur "The Muggle-Lover" Weasley (as Draco put it
oh-so-gently), and Harry being, well, Harry. But there were other who hadn't
been as lucky as Harry and Hermione. Dean Thomas hadn't been as fortunate as
Hermione. The year had begun sad for the fifth year Gryffindors. Parvati
seemed to be touched the most by his death. But she wasn't the only one. The
others seemed to have lost their happy childhood, too. The whole school was
mourning. There wasn't a single year without one or other students who
hadn't returned from summer break and the only house which seemed to enjoy
themselves in all this chaos, seemed to be Slytherin. Harry was more than
sure, that the reason was Lord Voldemort. Every Slytherin was a potential
Death Eater for students from other houses, but even as the other three
houses ignored them, Slytherins seemed not to notice this. Or they just
didn't care. Whenever no teacher was around, they acted as if they owned the
school. Life was a horror, outside school walls as well as inside.
He looked around. He was standing in a room he had been in so many times,
but it was a room he didn't remember. He looked at the masked faces
surrounding him, trying to puzzle out the identities of the people around
him. He knew, he must have known them from before, but he had no idea who
these people were. He tried to relax, tried not to think of what his Lord
might do to him here and now, because he had been weak. If he was lucky, he
might even live through this meeting, he decided.
A/N: Sorry it took me this long, even though I thought, I'd have more time for writing activities now... It's just that my life got completely complicated since the last posting and... Well... Ever heard of this annoying little demon called Writer's Block? Well, he's been hanging around for a while now. I think I got rid of him, but I don't have any guarantees for it.
As for the story... I don't think I have to tell you who the 'Man W/O Memory' was. It's more than simple to guess, right? Right! And if you think you didn't guess it - just ask.
Also - a review would be really nice. I haven't gotten any lately (which is no wonder, since I haven't been posting anything lately, either...) and I really miss getting them. And I really want to know what you think of my story.
A/N: This story is the fruit of my (very) sick fantasy. I still can't believe I actually made it as far as this. I mean - we ARE talking about chapter eleven, for Pete's sake! When I started the story I was sure it won't go over chapter eight!
And as always, this is beta read by Luinthoron. Which doesn't mean my request from last chapter doesn't count anymore. Of course it does. So please if someone is interested in reading the chapters for "The Spy in the Inner Circle" before they are released to the Net, just start beta-reading it! I'm in desperate need for a beta whose first language is English.
--Altair
Chapter Eleven: The Man Without Memory
Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a man. He was no ordinary man.
He was, in fact, a wizard. And then he was caught in an explosion. And that
explosion caused him to lose his memory. Months did go by and he still
didn't know who he was. He lived a quiet life in a small town in England,
not recalling his past. He tried everything, he was seeing the best doctors
the Muggle-world could provide him with, but his Amnesia didn't heal. He was
living in a small cottage as an ordinary Muggle. And then the men in black
robes found him. They found him and told him who he was. They told him he
was a wizard. They gave him back his wand. And they gave him back his name.
And he thought they were his friends because they told him they were. And he
trusted them. But they didn't give him back the thing he missed the most.
They didn't give him back his life. Instead, they gave him another one. One
that matched theirs. A black one.
He was summoned to the Dark Lord. He knew, sooner or later he would have to
face his old Master, but he still didn't feel like he was properly prepared
to face Him. Lord Voldemort was, after all, well known to have exceptionally
cruel punishments for being weak. And losing one's memory wasn't exactly something you could call someone strong for. No, he felt like he wasn't so
strong at all after all. And he felt like he had betrayed his Master by
losing his memory. After all, he couldn't remember any of these things his
friends had been speaking about. All those raids of Muggle-torturing,
killing the protectors of the Light Side, all those wonderful little parties
where some Muggle and Mudblood girls had participated... He didn't remember
any of it. And far, far worse. He didn't even remember his Master. He was
feeling almost terrified. Was the Dark Lord angry with him for losing all
his memory about Him? He dreaded to think of what his Lord might do to him
for having associated with Muggles and not killing any of them. Even worse,
he had found a new liking for those people (if you could call someone, who
had no magical abilities at all, people...) who had surrounded him in those
past months. How long had it been? He had been in that hospital for about a
month... Then he had been released from the hospital, but that nice doctor,
her name had been Lilith, had offered him a job as her personal secretary.
This job had made it possible for him to survive the following four-or-so
months. May she rest in peace (to not say pieces...). To make his conscience
shut up, he had provided her with a burial ceremony no-one in town had ever
seen before. Anyway... Her face, as he had performed the curse on her... it
had been priceless. Her last dying words, her last dying thoughts had been
for him. Somehow it had made him feel better. And for all it mattered - she
hadn't been able to help him remember. So she really wasn't worthy of
living. Anyone could see this, right? Even she couldn't possibly find
anything to say against it. And for all it mattered, he had made it as
painless as ever possible for her and prevented her from the pain and shame
of being the hostess on one of the famous parties. That was all he had been
able to do for her for saving his life. No-one would ever be able to say, he
didn't repay his life debts. No-one.
The Dark Lord was sitting in his favorite chair, observing the flames in the
fireplace. This promised to be one of his most glorious hours. One of
Dumbledore's best and most trusted men on his side... This was something he
had always wanted. He had too few good positioned spies in Dumbledore's
ranks. Arthur Weasley was the only one of them he had complete trust in. It
was really hard to find loyal followers these days. Ever since that fiasco
with that Potter-boy over fifteen years ago, people just wouldn't assume he
was invincible, anymore that was. They used to think otherwise before. And
he was determined to prove, he was. That's why he needed the Potter-boy
dead. He was the living reminder of his weakness, of his temporary fall. He
couldn't allow that kid to live. And now, with a little help from his newly
found loyal follower... he grinned. This was going to be so easy. The boy
trusted this new servant. He had been one of the boy's father's best friends
and the thought of his death had almost crushed the boy. Oh, yes. The
wizarding world assumed the new follower to have died half a year ago in an
explosion that had wiped the house the Potter-boy had been living in with
his relatives for almost fifteen years, from the face of the earth. Many had
happened since. They had found Pettygrew's dead body and many wizards had
began to doubt Black's guilt. While still on run, he seemed to have good
chances to clear his name. Of course, if the Ministry didn't find him first.
Minister Fudge, as always, managed to be as dense (and helpful) as ever and
had set the imprisoning of Sirius Black as the highest priority for all
Aurors and Ministry wizards, much to the Dark Lord's amusement. The boy
hadn't been placed in a Muggle orphange, after all. He and his Muggle cousin
had been adopted by a highly respected wizarding family. Namely the
Weasleys. Arthur had been in an exceptionally bad mood for weeks. But it was
profitable, too. Arthur's disguise had become a new adjustment with him as
the adoptive father of Harry Potter and a Muggle boy, and he could keep an
eye on the boy. On both of them. The charm Dumbledore had used to protect
Potter still worked, as he was still living together with someone with blood
relations to him. The same charm had been placed on Dudley. Not to mention
that it would have been highley suspicious if Arthur hadn't tried and
adopted the boys. He had been known to be very fond of the Potter-boy - a
part of his disguise, as his children were the closest friends the boy had.
As for his wife, she seemed to love the Potter-boy as much as her own
children. And that ment, Harry Potter still had more luck than brains. The
Dark Lord reached for his glass of brandy. He took a sip, and enjoyed the
taste in his mouth for a few moments, before swallowing it. Harry Potter
wasn't a problem anymore. Not with this new adjustment to his forces. No.
Now it was time to think about another wizard who had been causing him
trouble for a long time. They all thought, he was afraid of that wizard. But
that wasn't quite true. He respected him, yes, but he wasn't afraid of him.
No-one could be afraid of that good-hearted old man. He was gifted, anyone
could tell that. And he would have made an excellent ally if he would have
joined the Dark Side. But instead, he took over the lead on the Light Side,
being the leader of the Resistance. Yes. Albus Dumbledore wasn't to be
underestimated.
He looked out of the window, over the from war devastated land. He sighed.
How had the world come this far? He couldn't understand this. It had all
went so well. Life had been easy, annoying relatives or not. He had always
been able to escape into the world of magic. But now... It wasn't possible
to tell the Muggle-world and the magical community apart. Both worlds had
been caught in this war which promised to grow into the biggest and
bloodyest war the world had ever seen. Not that he had seen that much of the
world. He was only fifteen years old, for Pete's sake! But still... This war
had taken too much from him already. The numerous attacks the Death Eaters
had undertaken hadn't went without leaving their marks on the students. Many
hadn't returned from summer break. Many Muggle-born and Halfbreeds, to be
excact. Many of his friends. There were Muggle-borns and Halfbreeds who had
lived over summer and had returned, but they were very quiet and prefered
the company of each other, abandoning their Pureblood friends from before,
being scared to bring doom on them. It had been hard enough to convince
Hermione to stay with them. He and Ron had been forced to use all their
skills in convincing to make her stay and not abandon them after her house
had been attacked in late summer. Only after hearing of the attack on
Harry's relatives was it, that she decided to stand by them. But it had been
really hard to make her see, that they both were on Lord Voldemort's hit
list on the same positions as Hermie. Maybe even higher, concidering Ron
being the son of Arthur "The Muggle-Lover" Weasley (as Draco put it
oh-so-gently), and Harry being, well, Harry. But there were other who hadn't
been as lucky as Harry and Hermione. Dean Thomas hadn't been as fortunate as
Hermione. The year had begun sad for the fifth year Gryffindors. Parvati
seemed to be touched the most by his death. But she wasn't the only one. The
others seemed to have lost their happy childhood, too. The whole school was
mourning. There wasn't a single year without one or other students who
hadn't returned from summer break and the only house which seemed to enjoy
themselves in all this chaos, seemed to be Slytherin. Harry was more than
sure, that the reason was Lord Voldemort. Every Slytherin was a potential
Death Eater for students from other houses, but even as the other three
houses ignored them, Slytherins seemed not to notice this. Or they just
didn't care. Whenever no teacher was around, they acted as if they owned the
school. Life was a horror, outside school walls as well as inside.
He looked around. He was standing in a room he had been in so many times,
but it was a room he didn't remember. He looked at the masked faces
surrounding him, trying to puzzle out the identities of the people around
him. He knew, he must have known them from before, but he had no idea who
these people were. He tried to relax, tried not to think of what his Lord
might do to him here and now, because he had been weak. If he was lucky, he
might even live through this meeting, he decided.
A/N: Sorry it took me this long, even though I thought, I'd have more time for writing activities now... It's just that my life got completely complicated since the last posting and... Well... Ever heard of this annoying little demon called Writer's Block? Well, he's been hanging around for a while now. I think I got rid of him, but I don't have any guarantees for it.
As for the story... I don't think I have to tell you who the 'Man W/O Memory' was. It's more than simple to guess, right? Right! And if you think you didn't guess it - just ask.
Also - a review would be really nice. I haven't gotten any lately (which is no wonder, since I haven't been posting anything lately, either...) and I really miss getting them. And I really want to know what you think of my story.