Chapter Fifteen:
It took all of Dumbledore's courage to leave Harry on the front step of the Dursely's
house the night his parents died. It took even more courage to talk to him in his office the night
Sirius died. But those scenarios had not been anywhere near as difficult as explaining the chain of
events leading up to Harry's return. He found himself softly crying as he told every one what had
happened to Harry. Ian had been a great deal of help. Dumbledore was surprised not to find
himself angry with Ian, but rather great full. It was unimaginable to think what condition Harry
would have been if he was found by someone other than him.
"Albus, do you think Harry will ever remember us?"
Dumbledore sighed, "Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger? What was Professor Lockhart's
condition when you saw him in St. Mungo's last year?"
They both looked at each other before Hermione answered, "There wasn't any
improvement, Professor."
"St. Mungos...are you suggesting Harry go there?" Mrs. Weasley asked, horrified at the
thought.
"No, I do not believe Harry should go there. Ian, would you care to explain how muggles
deal with memory loss?"
"Well," Ian thought a minute before answering, " when I person has amnesia they're
usually cured when they're surrounded by familiar things."
"Precisely."
"Albus, do you really think that will work?" Remus asked.
"I hope so, Remus. I hope so."
* * * * * * * * * *
"So, they actually kill each other?"
"Well, yea, sort of. But then you put the broken pieces away and the next time you open
the box they're good as new."
"Fascinating."
It was ten o' clock at night and Ron was showing Harry his set of wizard's chess. They
played four games before Mrs. Weasley came in and forced them to turn off the light. Harry was
disappointed that he only won one game, but Ron assured him that it was an improvement.
"It's the first time you've ever won against me."
"Man, I suck."
"Yea, but you're a lot better at Quidditch."
"I'm better at what?"
"Oh...you don't know? Look through your things. You should have a book called
Quidditch Through the Ages. Read that and you'll know what I mean. Oh, and you play the
seeker position for our house at school."
"Right."
* * * * * * * * * *
He was on top of the tower again. This time the pain of the scar on his forehead was
reduced to a low throb. It was broad daylight and he wasn't alone. A young woman who looked
to be in her early 20's was standing directly across from him. She had wild orange and red hair,
and wore clothes of a similar style to his, only they were extremely colorful. She smiled at him.
"Hiya, Harry."
"Er, hi."
"I just wanted to say that I forgive you."
"Forgive me?"
"Yea, for yelling at me at the start of summer. Remember? We were in the park and-"
"No, sorry. I wouldn't remember that."
The woman smiled at him, "No, I don't suppose you would. Well, for the record my name
is Tonks."
"Ok."
"Ok, Harry. Well, it was nice talking to you."
"Yea."
* * * * * * * * * *
"Shhh! You'll wake him up!"
"Too late, I'm awake," Harry groggily sat up.
"Oh, sorry dear. We didn't mean to wake you." Mrs. Weasley apologized.
"It's ok, Mrs. uh...."
"Weasley, honey."
"Right, and that's Tonks, is it?"
Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and Remus exchanged thrilled glances.
"You remember?"
"No, you were in my dream."
Remus looked at Harry curiously.
* * * * * * * * * *
They day progressed extremely slowly for every one, but for Harry it was the slowest. At
the suggestion of Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron were to show Harry around Grimmauld Place
in hopes that it would restore his memory. They constantly shot him secretive worried looks. At
least they thought they were secretive. Harry heard every whisper and saw every glance directed
towards him. After a few hours of trying to ignore it he could not take it anymore, and ended up
throwing a fit accompanied by many rude and unpleasant words. He stormed out of the kitchen in
the middle of dinner, and ran straight into a very confused Snape in the hall near the front
entrance. Remus stood up abruptly and made to follow Harry, but Dumbledore stopped him. It
was better to let the boy work at his own pace.
He ran up the stairs and turned left, stumbled up another flight of stairs and continued to
take many twists and turns into various corridors. He had no idea where he was going. After
reaching the top floor Harry walked into the first room he came to, opened the door, and
dropped himself on the bed. Something was very strange in this room. An eerie feeling filled
Harry's mind.
*This isn't right. Something is missing...but what?*
He looked around the room. Everything was neat and orderly. A desk sat to the left of the
door. Many papers and books were stacked on top of it. A dresser stood to the right of the
closet, which was directly across from the bed. A night stand with a lamp and notebook sat
underneath a window. It all looked like a perfectly normal bedroom. But wait- yes, he knew what
was wrong now. It was empty of life. He got the feeling no one had been in this room for a long,
long time. Now that Harry looked closer, he could see that all was covered in a thick layer of
dust. However, that was not how he knew. He had a feeling, a feeling that who ever had lived in
this room had a sad story. And that person was no longer alive.
The small leather notebook on the night stand caught Harry's attention. He picked it up
and opened it to the front page.
~Property of Sirius Black~
Harry listened for footsteps. No one had bothered to follow him. He opened the notebook
and began to read about the man who he killed.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Damnit, not again," Harry groaned.
He was on top of the tower again, and he wasn't alone.
"Harry?"
"Yea, I guess that's me."
This was becoming redundant.
"Harry, it's so good to see you, you have no idea." The man embraced him before Harry
had a chance to pull away. "Remember, it's not your fault."
"What isn't?" He pitied the man, who was now in tears. He had no heart to tell him what a
creep he was.
"It's not your fault. Move on." The man jumped off the tower without a second glance.
Harry ran to the edge and watched him fall. He waited for the man to hit the bottom but a
sharp pain hit him square in the forehead, blinding him. He struggled for a few moments before
attempting to open his eyes. He immediately closed them again when they started to tear up. He
fell forward and was surprised to find that he had not landed on his knees. He landed in the air
past the boundary of the tower.
* * * * * * * * * *
"He's burning up."
"Is Snape still around? Have him brew a fever reducing potion."
"Harry?"
No answer.
"Harry, can you hear me?"
He tried to lift his head but it was too heavy.
"...Harry?"
"Shut up, I hear you."
Remus was taken aback, "Oh....ok then."
"I'm fine," Harry sat up despite Mrs.Weasley's protests, "It was just a nightmare."
Remus, Mrs. Weasley, and Dumbledore looked at each other, then Dumbledore spoke up.
"Harry, this is not unusual behavior for you. I explained Voldemort and the connection he
has with your scar. Do you understand why you have these dreams?"
"Yea, I already told you I did."
"So you'll agree to Occulmency with Professor Snape?"
"I said I'll think about it."
Just then Snape came in holding a goblet. He ordered Harry to drink the potion. After
doing so, Harry laid back down.
"Ok, great. Well, night everyone."
"Wait."
"Hmm?" Harry was already drifting off to sleep.
"Can you tell me about the dream while it's fresh in your mind?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yea, just about some guy. He said hugged me and said something about this thing not
being my fault. I don't know...." He fell asleep.
Remus raised his eyebrows, "Albus?"
"Yes, Sirius spoke to Harry."
It took all of Dumbledore's courage to leave Harry on the front step of the Dursely's
house the night his parents died. It took even more courage to talk to him in his office the night
Sirius died. But those scenarios had not been anywhere near as difficult as explaining the chain of
events leading up to Harry's return. He found himself softly crying as he told every one what had
happened to Harry. Ian had been a great deal of help. Dumbledore was surprised not to find
himself angry with Ian, but rather great full. It was unimaginable to think what condition Harry
would have been if he was found by someone other than him.
"Albus, do you think Harry will ever remember us?"
Dumbledore sighed, "Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger? What was Professor Lockhart's
condition when you saw him in St. Mungo's last year?"
They both looked at each other before Hermione answered, "There wasn't any
improvement, Professor."
"St. Mungos...are you suggesting Harry go there?" Mrs. Weasley asked, horrified at the
thought.
"No, I do not believe Harry should go there. Ian, would you care to explain how muggles
deal with memory loss?"
"Well," Ian thought a minute before answering, " when I person has amnesia they're
usually cured when they're surrounded by familiar things."
"Precisely."
"Albus, do you really think that will work?" Remus asked.
"I hope so, Remus. I hope so."
* * * * * * * * * *
"So, they actually kill each other?"
"Well, yea, sort of. But then you put the broken pieces away and the next time you open
the box they're good as new."
"Fascinating."
It was ten o' clock at night and Ron was showing Harry his set of wizard's chess. They
played four games before Mrs. Weasley came in and forced them to turn off the light. Harry was
disappointed that he only won one game, but Ron assured him that it was an improvement.
"It's the first time you've ever won against me."
"Man, I suck."
"Yea, but you're a lot better at Quidditch."
"I'm better at what?"
"Oh...you don't know? Look through your things. You should have a book called
Quidditch Through the Ages. Read that and you'll know what I mean. Oh, and you play the
seeker position for our house at school."
"Right."
* * * * * * * * * *
He was on top of the tower again. This time the pain of the scar on his forehead was
reduced to a low throb. It was broad daylight and he wasn't alone. A young woman who looked
to be in her early 20's was standing directly across from him. She had wild orange and red hair,
and wore clothes of a similar style to his, only they were extremely colorful. She smiled at him.
"Hiya, Harry."
"Er, hi."
"I just wanted to say that I forgive you."
"Forgive me?"
"Yea, for yelling at me at the start of summer. Remember? We were in the park and-"
"No, sorry. I wouldn't remember that."
The woman smiled at him, "No, I don't suppose you would. Well, for the record my name
is Tonks."
"Ok."
"Ok, Harry. Well, it was nice talking to you."
"Yea."
* * * * * * * * * *
"Shhh! You'll wake him up!"
"Too late, I'm awake," Harry groggily sat up.
"Oh, sorry dear. We didn't mean to wake you." Mrs. Weasley apologized.
"It's ok, Mrs. uh...."
"Weasley, honey."
"Right, and that's Tonks, is it?"
Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and Remus exchanged thrilled glances.
"You remember?"
"No, you were in my dream."
Remus looked at Harry curiously.
* * * * * * * * * *
They day progressed extremely slowly for every one, but for Harry it was the slowest. At
the suggestion of Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron were to show Harry around Grimmauld Place
in hopes that it would restore his memory. They constantly shot him secretive worried looks. At
least they thought they were secretive. Harry heard every whisper and saw every glance directed
towards him. After a few hours of trying to ignore it he could not take it anymore, and ended up
throwing a fit accompanied by many rude and unpleasant words. He stormed out of the kitchen in
the middle of dinner, and ran straight into a very confused Snape in the hall near the front
entrance. Remus stood up abruptly and made to follow Harry, but Dumbledore stopped him. It
was better to let the boy work at his own pace.
He ran up the stairs and turned left, stumbled up another flight of stairs and continued to
take many twists and turns into various corridors. He had no idea where he was going. After
reaching the top floor Harry walked into the first room he came to, opened the door, and
dropped himself on the bed. Something was very strange in this room. An eerie feeling filled
Harry's mind.
*This isn't right. Something is missing...but what?*
He looked around the room. Everything was neat and orderly. A desk sat to the left of the
door. Many papers and books were stacked on top of it. A dresser stood to the right of the
closet, which was directly across from the bed. A night stand with a lamp and notebook sat
underneath a window. It all looked like a perfectly normal bedroom. But wait- yes, he knew what
was wrong now. It was empty of life. He got the feeling no one had been in this room for a long,
long time. Now that Harry looked closer, he could see that all was covered in a thick layer of
dust. However, that was not how he knew. He had a feeling, a feeling that who ever had lived in
this room had a sad story. And that person was no longer alive.
The small leather notebook on the night stand caught Harry's attention. He picked it up
and opened it to the front page.
~Property of Sirius Black~
Harry listened for footsteps. No one had bothered to follow him. He opened the notebook
and began to read about the man who he killed.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Damnit, not again," Harry groaned.
He was on top of the tower again, and he wasn't alone.
"Harry?"
"Yea, I guess that's me."
This was becoming redundant.
"Harry, it's so good to see you, you have no idea." The man embraced him before Harry
had a chance to pull away. "Remember, it's not your fault."
"What isn't?" He pitied the man, who was now in tears. He had no heart to tell him what a
creep he was.
"It's not your fault. Move on." The man jumped off the tower without a second glance.
Harry ran to the edge and watched him fall. He waited for the man to hit the bottom but a
sharp pain hit him square in the forehead, blinding him. He struggled for a few moments before
attempting to open his eyes. He immediately closed them again when they started to tear up. He
fell forward and was surprised to find that he had not landed on his knees. He landed in the air
past the boundary of the tower.
* * * * * * * * * *
"He's burning up."
"Is Snape still around? Have him brew a fever reducing potion."
"Harry?"
No answer.
"Harry, can you hear me?"
He tried to lift his head but it was too heavy.
"...Harry?"
"Shut up, I hear you."
Remus was taken aback, "Oh....ok then."
"I'm fine," Harry sat up despite Mrs.Weasley's protests, "It was just a nightmare."
Remus, Mrs. Weasley, and Dumbledore looked at each other, then Dumbledore spoke up.
"Harry, this is not unusual behavior for you. I explained Voldemort and the connection he
has with your scar. Do you understand why you have these dreams?"
"Yea, I already told you I did."
"So you'll agree to Occulmency with Professor Snape?"
"I said I'll think about it."
Just then Snape came in holding a goblet. He ordered Harry to drink the potion. After
doing so, Harry laid back down.
"Ok, great. Well, night everyone."
"Wait."
"Hmm?" Harry was already drifting off to sleep.
"Can you tell me about the dream while it's fresh in your mind?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yea, just about some guy. He said hugged me and said something about this thing not
being my fault. I don't know...." He fell asleep.
Remus raised his eyebrows, "Albus?"
"Yes, Sirius spoke to Harry."