Chapter 8
Discoveries
*
Alyson stared at Chris. "What?"
"I figured it out. How our parents lost their memories, Aly, I figured it out!"
Alyson looked curiously at him. "Go on."
Chris started walking ahead of her. They were on the grounds and heading towards the lake.
"All right. About 10 months before I was born my parents were in a car crash. They suffered severe head trauma and when they woke up, they both had amnesia."
"Amnesia?" Alyson gasped. "Do you think they're not just trying to make excuses?"
"No. I'm sure this is real. My parents have scars and everything. My dad had this wicked scar on his forehead-"
"In the shape of a lightning bolt?" Alyson asked.
Chris frowned, and then realized what she was implying. "Well, yah, I guess. It was wicked big though, and he was horribly embarrassed off it. He got it lasered off or something before we went to France."
Alyson looked discouraged. "So you're saying our parents ran away, got in a car crash and lost their memories?"
"No! Don't you see Aly? Some Muggles must have discovered them before wizards could find them. They must have suffered head trauma in the last battle. And they were rushed to some Muggle hospital."
"You're right!" Alyson looked wild eyed at her brother. "Bloody hell, Chris, you're right! That's what happened! Harry and Ginny Potter have been living in oblivion all these years right under our noses!"
"So what do we do now? Should we go to Dumbledore straightaway?" Chris looked anxious.
"No, not Dumbledore." Alyson walked slowly ahead of Chris, staring into the peaceful serenity of the Hogwarts Lake. "Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron should know. They deserve to know. And they'll know what to do."
Chris nodded. "So when should we talk to them?"
Alyson turned around. "You free Sunday?"
"I guess."
"Alright. I have this Invisibility Cloak that used to be my father's. I'll meet you at six at night in the Common Room. We'll sneak over to Hogsmeade and go to my house. Then, well, we'll tell them what we know."
"Okay. Sunday then."
*
Ron Weasley stared at the house.
House wasn't really the right word. It was a shack, really. A mound of dirt, decaying wood and dust. Ron was amazed the Aurors ahead of him were actually entering the place. He gulped and headed in after them.
The house was dark, and every inch of its one solitary room was covered in grime. It smelled like a place that hadn't received air for at least a decade, and Ron struggled to get the stale air through his lungs. The walls were a faded blue color that was chipped more then not, and the floorboards were spongy and felt unstable.
The room was covered in bookshelves, in which lay a disarray of molding books with worn covers. Cauldrons crowded the floor, and they were filled with various ingredients for potion making. And the floor was littered with what looked like pieces of torn parchment.
It seemed as if someone had tried to destroy countless days of notes. The paper scraps were strewn everywhere, and Ron picked one up. Jagged writing covered it, and it was so faded and worn he couldn't even read it.
Suddenly a young Auror broke the muffled silence. "Sir, take a look at this."
Ron reached out his hand to receive the yellowed piece of parchment, which was smeared and spilt upon. He struggled to make out the words.
Gasman,
Let me just forewarn you that' the master is not pleased. The spell was supposed to be ready months ago, and the master's patience is fast dwindling. I hope the girl is not giving you trouble.
The headquarters are well stocked for this assignment, and your complaining will not be tolerated. Lord Voldemort will not have it. You are to have the spell ready in a week's time. I warn you, Gasman, do not mess this up, or it shall be your head.
Ron frowned. Well this pretty much cleared up any doubts that this was a Death Eater headquarters. But what was this spell the unidentified writer was talking about?
Ron gave the paper to Jacob, who read it quickly.
"Youngman! I want you to search every inch of this place for any intact messages like this! You understand?"
"Yes sir." A young Auror and his team began searching the place.
"What do you think this means, Jake?" Ron asked.
Jacob frowned. "The Death Eaters must have been working on some kind of spell before Voldemort's death. It doesn't appear they ever used it."
"Well who are some of the jailed Death Eaters we have? Maybe we can force the information out of them. Surely they must know something."
"I'm not sure, Ron. We'll investigate more in the morning. Thank you for your help."
Ron nodded.
Discoveries
*
Alyson stared at Chris. "What?"
"I figured it out. How our parents lost their memories, Aly, I figured it out!"
Alyson looked curiously at him. "Go on."
Chris started walking ahead of her. They were on the grounds and heading towards the lake.
"All right. About 10 months before I was born my parents were in a car crash. They suffered severe head trauma and when they woke up, they both had amnesia."
"Amnesia?" Alyson gasped. "Do you think they're not just trying to make excuses?"
"No. I'm sure this is real. My parents have scars and everything. My dad had this wicked scar on his forehead-"
"In the shape of a lightning bolt?" Alyson asked.
Chris frowned, and then realized what she was implying. "Well, yah, I guess. It was wicked big though, and he was horribly embarrassed off it. He got it lasered off or something before we went to France."
Alyson looked discouraged. "So you're saying our parents ran away, got in a car crash and lost their memories?"
"No! Don't you see Aly? Some Muggles must have discovered them before wizards could find them. They must have suffered head trauma in the last battle. And they were rushed to some Muggle hospital."
"You're right!" Alyson looked wild eyed at her brother. "Bloody hell, Chris, you're right! That's what happened! Harry and Ginny Potter have been living in oblivion all these years right under our noses!"
"So what do we do now? Should we go to Dumbledore straightaway?" Chris looked anxious.
"No, not Dumbledore." Alyson walked slowly ahead of Chris, staring into the peaceful serenity of the Hogwarts Lake. "Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron should know. They deserve to know. And they'll know what to do."
Chris nodded. "So when should we talk to them?"
Alyson turned around. "You free Sunday?"
"I guess."
"Alright. I have this Invisibility Cloak that used to be my father's. I'll meet you at six at night in the Common Room. We'll sneak over to Hogsmeade and go to my house. Then, well, we'll tell them what we know."
"Okay. Sunday then."
*
Ron Weasley stared at the house.
House wasn't really the right word. It was a shack, really. A mound of dirt, decaying wood and dust. Ron was amazed the Aurors ahead of him were actually entering the place. He gulped and headed in after them.
The house was dark, and every inch of its one solitary room was covered in grime. It smelled like a place that hadn't received air for at least a decade, and Ron struggled to get the stale air through his lungs. The walls were a faded blue color that was chipped more then not, and the floorboards were spongy and felt unstable.
The room was covered in bookshelves, in which lay a disarray of molding books with worn covers. Cauldrons crowded the floor, and they were filled with various ingredients for potion making. And the floor was littered with what looked like pieces of torn parchment.
It seemed as if someone had tried to destroy countless days of notes. The paper scraps were strewn everywhere, and Ron picked one up. Jagged writing covered it, and it was so faded and worn he couldn't even read it.
Suddenly a young Auror broke the muffled silence. "Sir, take a look at this."
Ron reached out his hand to receive the yellowed piece of parchment, which was smeared and spilt upon. He struggled to make out the words.
Gasman,
Let me just forewarn you that' the master is not pleased. The spell was supposed to be ready months ago, and the master's patience is fast dwindling. I hope the girl is not giving you trouble.
The headquarters are well stocked for this assignment, and your complaining will not be tolerated. Lord Voldemort will not have it. You are to have the spell ready in a week's time. I warn you, Gasman, do not mess this up, or it shall be your head.
Ron frowned. Well this pretty much cleared up any doubts that this was a Death Eater headquarters. But what was this spell the unidentified writer was talking about?
Ron gave the paper to Jacob, who read it quickly.
"Youngman! I want you to search every inch of this place for any intact messages like this! You understand?"
"Yes sir." A young Auror and his team began searching the place.
"What do you think this means, Jake?" Ron asked.
Jacob frowned. "The Death Eaters must have been working on some kind of spell before Voldemort's death. It doesn't appear they ever used it."
"Well who are some of the jailed Death Eaters we have? Maybe we can force the information out of them. Surely they must know something."
"I'm not sure, Ron. We'll investigate more in the morning. Thank you for your help."
Ron nodded.