Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.

A/N: A reviewer has pointed out that it's obvious that Harry rescued the captives. True, it would've been obvious six years ago, he was the hero of the wizarding world. However, he's done nothing to stop the madness all these years. He refused to step in at all. He no longer becomes the obvious person to the public, unless he mistakenly reveals himself too early. And as for him getting his memory back...well that depends if you think he's lost his memory.

Thank you for your reviews. They are, indeed, the fuel for any writer, and us amateur ones too.

Chapter 8
Questions

"What were your errors in the duel yesterday?" asked the instructor.

"You were better than me?" Harry guessed.

"That's not an error."

"I didn't know all the spells you performed," Harry guessed again.

"True, you clearly don't know how to deal with unknown spells," said the teacher. "We'll teach you to detect the level of strength of spells, even if you don't know exactly what they are.

"One of your main errors, Harry, was that you allowed me to put you in a completely defensive position. If you find yourself only blocking spell after spell, you are losing."

"What should I do?"

"Change the situation. Send out offensive spells to stop the barrage. Be smarter in your choices of defensive spells. Sometimes a shield's helpful, while blocking other times. And sometimes, just dodging the spells, by apparation or jumping around, is the best thing."

"How do I know which to choose?"

"Instinct," replied the teacher. "You may be wrong sometimes, but you must always let your instincts guide you in battle. It alone can let you react quickly to the rapid changes that occur. If you try to think about it, your hesitation would be exploited. Strategies should be worked out at the back of your mind, but in the front must be reflexive."

"That sounds hard," Harry remarked.

"At first, it is," agreed the teacher. "But with experience it becomes easier to handle.

"Now, your wand, please."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry heard the door open, and then a massive weight on his bed. He reached under his pillow with his right hand, took the glasses of the stand with his left, kicked whoever the assailant was, and jumped on the bed in quick succession.

"What the hell was that for?" yelled a voice.

"Ow, I think he hurt my Fred, George," yelled another.

Harry lowered his wand when he realised who they were.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Still in Voldemort-fight mode."

"Gosh, we'd soon be calling you..."

"Mad-eye Potter!"

"Paranoid freak of nature," said Fred.

"I know," replied George shaking his head solemnly. "I've heard about it before. They lose their minds..."

"Thinking their teacups are Death Eaters..."

"And their missus the Dark Lord..."

"Although Lee's wife is the Dark Lord..."

"How he handles Alicia is beyond me."

"And me."

"Wait," Harry interrupted them before they gave his sleepy mind a headache. "Lee married Alicia? As in Alicia Spinnet?"

"Yep," replied Fred. "Dunno how that happened. They didn't talk much."

"But Fred, dear boy," said George, stroking his chin. "We should have suspected, then. The less they talked meant the more they stared. Imagine the looks of hungry passion they passed to each other while we were discussing useless things like Quidditch."

"Quidditch is useless?" Harry asked.

"Sacrilege!" shouted Fred.

"Could you two shut it?" yelled Ron, who was now standing at the doorway. "Some of us are trying to sleep. And have succeeded in growing up."

"Awwwww," George said, batting his eyes at Fred.

"Ickle Ron has grown up, and is now telling us to," Fred remarked in the same tone as George. "What do we say to that, George ol' boy?"

"We say," George said, "that he should grow down. More to an acceptable level for a Weasley."

"Yep," said Fred nodding. "Percy's just a freak of nature. Passes down every six generations or so from Dad's side."

They ran at Ron. Ron, still sleepy, screamed and tried to run off, but they got him quickly. Harry laughed as they carried him to his room.

"Geroff me!" he yelled, trying to sake them off.

"Stop shaking, you Percy-wannabe."

"You'll stop us from teaching you."

Ron told them he'd teach them something very rude. Harry, of course, played no part in helping either side, except watched and laughed at their childishness.

"Breakfast!" called Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen downstairs.

Fred and George dropped Ron at Harry's bed, and without another word, left the room. Ron didn't look at him, getting up to leave. He stopped at the door.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you mad at me for telling?"

"Nah," Harry waved away. "They're your family, and like my own. If you tell reporters though," Harry smiled, "I'll kill you."

"Cheers, Harry."

"Now, can you tell me one thing that's been bothering me?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"When did your parents move to such a large house?"

Harry and Ron finished their breakfasts before the rest of the house got up. They went to the living room, but Harry stopped Ron at the doorway.

Fred and George were using the fire-place, talking with a witch's head in the fire.

"What do you mean profits have decreased?" Fred asked angrily.

"Less people bought our products," replied the blonde witch, looking annoyed at such a stupid question. "Zonko's has had higher sales in Hogsmeade."

"Thanks to the French company buying them," George growled.

"Plus," said the witch, "there was a level of disinterest in the last quarter's range of toys. We must capitalise on the coming summer's Quidditch World Cup."

"Very well. Thanks for the update Sheila," said Fred.

"Thanks," George said.

"See you," and the witch's head vanished.

"Problems?" asked Harry as Ron and he stepped in the living room.

"What?" asked Fred, not noticing their presence. "Not really. Just the nature of business, some risks, some gains, some losses."

"Any advice?" George asked. "After all, you do hold a percentage of the company."

"Any advice I give, and WWW will be bankrupt in a month," Harry laughed. "I never offered advice these past years, did I?"

"Nope."

"Some things shouldn't change."

"Anyways," said Fred. "We were thinking of playing some Quidditch. You up for a game?"

"Not after breakfast," said Ron.

"Yep," Harry agreed. "Let's digest the ton of food we ate, and the three tons Ron devoured, before we do any flying." Harry remembered something.

"Where's my broomstick, anyways?"

"At Hogwarts," Ron replied.

"Look at this," George said, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. "Ron knows where Harry keeps his things."

"Touching," remarked Fred. "Soon they'll know where they keep their..."

Ron chucked a cushion at Fred.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kingsley left the Ministry building at the cover of night. It was quite late, but with Polanar causing havoc, it was beginning to become routine.

Kingsley reached the Apparation point, got on the stage which people apparate into and out of, and...

"Not just yet, Mr. Shacklebolt."

Kingsley looked around, his wand pointed in front of him, and three curses on his lips. He couldn't see anyone.

"Relatis!" he shouted, casting a revealing spell.

The voice laughed.

"You assume I use magic to cover myself," the voice said. "That is done by weak wizards. Simple hiding techniques are what muggles excel at. Do not try to use Lumos, as I will apparate away. And I must have caught your curiosity."

"Who are you?" he called to the darkness. "Where are you?"

"Both meaningless questions," was the reply. Where was it coming from, Kingsley looked around angrily.

"What do you want?" Kingsley called.

"Ah," replied the voice, content. "A much better question. I want to talk with you, Mr. Shacklebolt."

"About what?"

"Polanar, amongst other things. And to provide you with information."

"What about Polanar?"

"What has he been up to?" asked the voice. "In fact, who is he?"

"I don't know who he is, and I've never met him..."

"Apart from the time Mr. Malfoy saved your life."

Damn, how did he know that?

"Apart from that," said Kingsley, covering his shock. "He hasn't revealed himself."

"What does he desire?"

"Power," replied Kingsley. "As for what the power is for, that, too, remains unrevealed."

"A pity. What has he done so far?"

"Nothing much," said Kingsley. "A few attacks here and there. No casualties, and few injuries. We wouldn't be so concerned had we not known of his strength and past connections to Voldemort."

"Fighting a problem before it becomes a problem," noted the voice. "My, how the Ministry's changed. What have you done so far?"

"Apart from preventing the media from reporting it..."

"I've noticed the wizarding world has no idea about Polanar."

"... we've only dealt with the problems he's caused. Right now, he's robbed a couple of muggle banks."

"Foolish, isn't it?" asked the voice. "Won't you just ask Gringotts to report any sudden increase in a bank account."

"We did," replied Kingsley. "But they're most likely sending it to European magical banks, and we have no jurisdiction there. And some governments there don't care for us."

"True."

"What did you want to tell me?" asked Kingsley.

"You're revealing yourself," said the voice.

"How?"

"The Ministry's aware of your 'investigations'. Stop them immediately, if you value your life."

"That it?"

"No," said the voice, sounding annoyed. "I wouldn't come so far just to tell you that. I shall provide you with the info you need. Don't go looking for anything until I tell you so."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't," replied the voice. "But you have no choice. This gets far deeper than you think."

"Care to clarify?"

"Yep. The Ministry is in cahoots with the muggle government. they are committing experiments on wizards and witches that were kidnapped."

"We were told that it was a rogue muggle organisation."

"You were lied to. This goes up to the top. Both governments are working together on this. I know the muggle's reasoning, but I haven't the foggiest on the Ministry's. You are to find out why the Ministry's in this. They seek something. What?"

"How do I do this?"

"Keep your ear on the ground. Don't ask anyone anything. I feel that this is big, so it'll involve many departments, including your own. They can't control everything. You will hear bits and pieces. Report them to me."

"Where can I meet you?" asked Kingsley. "And why should I trust you?"

"I will meet you," replied the voice. "And you shouldn't trust me. Yet, you are on your own. I am the only avenue open to you, and you know it.

"Do not despair. A Phoenix song can be heard despite whatever darkness you may find yourself in."

What! It couldn't be...

"Dumbledore?" Kingsley called. No reply. "Dumbledore?" he shouted.

The voice was no longer there.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Dr. Chang?" called the secretary.

"Yes?" replied the therapist.

"You have a patient waiting for you."

"But you said I was free for now."

"I thought it was," replied the puzzled secretary. "But a man came in, and I checked the computer said he booked for now."

Dr. Chang was puzzled, but the man had an appointment, so what was there to do? The doctor went to the room, opened the door and walked up to greet the new patient.

"Harry!" she yelped.

"Hello Cho," he said, lying down on a couch that was never there. "I hope you don't mind me conjuring this couch. The chair wasn't too comfortable."

"No," replied Cho, bemused to say the least. "It's been...

"8 years or so, I think," offered Harry.

"It could be more, if you include my final year at Hogwarts."

"We didn't talked much that year, did we?" Harry asked.

"No," replied Cho.

"Regrettable."

"So," Cho said as she sat down at her chair. Harry remained in the couch, facing her. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I've been told that you've got some psychology experience."

"I'm a medical doctor," corrected Cho.

"I said experience," said Harry. "You've gotten a degree in psychology before you went to medical school. Not required for us in the U.K. Why did you do that, anyways? Had plans to study in the U.S. or Canada?"

"No," said Cho. "Med school's very competitive here. I had no muggle studies. Why would they select me? I had to go through a muggle degree..."

"Which you did brilliant at," interrupted Harry.

"Thank you," said Cho. "Which was enough to get me into a university for medical studies."

"Why?"

"Why?" asked Cho, perplexed.

"Why go to the muggle world after being in the wizarding?" Harry clarified.

"I never left the wizarding nor muggle world, Harry," Cho said. "I'm as much a muggle as I am a witch. I intend to get magical healing training as well."

"Woman," Harry said in disappointment. "There's something as being knowing too much. Your head will explode."

Cho giggled. "Seriously," she said. "Do you know how behind we are in certain illnesses in the wizarding world? Cancer cases are increasing fast, and they don't even know how to detect tumours! The magical world's been too dependent on the muggle world in cases of cancer, TB, AIDS (oh they're rising), and especially genetic illnesses such as Huntington's disease, and so many more. Our isolation from the muggle world will become disastrous, with us getting extremely sick without the knowledge of how to treat the people."

"I didn't know that," Harry said. "Sorry."

"Not at all," Cho waved away. "What did you want, anyways?"

"I have a serious issue," Harry said. "And I wanted to speak with someone over it. You know psychology, so here I am."

"Harry, I must advise you to speak with a professional," Cho stressed. "I only have an undergraduate degree. Doesn't mean I know how to treat patients."

"It's tied with magic," Harry replied. "Unless you know any magical psychologists? Besides, I wouldn't trust them, anyways. It's quite sensitive."

"I'm touched you'd trust me," said Cho seriously. Then she smiled. "Is this a "Harry who has to save the world" thing, or "Harry who has difficulty to ask me to the Yule Ball" thing?"

Harry teased back, "Well Dr. Chang, do you give all your patients the "Madam Puddifoot" treatment?"

Cho laughed at that.

"Seriously, though," Harry said. "Unfortunately, it's the former. And thus, I can't trust strangers."

He proceeded to tell her everything. Well, everything about coming to the future. Nothing about his dealings around the country, though.

"So," she said thoughtfully. "Is this something that has occurred, or is it just in your mind?"

"Of course it occurred!" said Harry.

"If you imagined it," dismissed Cho, "then you'd think it happened, wouldn't you?"

"True."

"But the Avada Kedavra doesn't fit with the mind theory," she continued. "Such dark magic causes havoc. As you can attest to, surviving it before."

"So?" Harry asked.

"It does seem to be a reality, as opposed to a magical form of amnesia," Cho guessed.

"I've come to that conclusion."

"Then," said Cho, "what do want from me?"

"For someone to talk to."

"About what? I'm all ears."

"I'm sick of this," Harry growled, getting off the couch. "I can't stand this any more. I want to go back home."

"You can't was what you said."

"It doesn't mean I don't want to," Harry countered. He paced the room. "I'm sad, Cho. I've forgotten what it's like to be happy."

"Go on."

"Sure I've laughed a bit with the Weasleys and Hermione," Harry said, not facing her. "But it's just a distraction. Normally, there's a weight on my chest. Like something squeezing my heart. I feel as if happiness is an illusion. I don't know what to do."

"With your sadness," said Cho, "do you feel a loss of interest or pleasure?"

"I think so," Harry replied. "I mean, I played Quidditch for the first time in a while, and I didn't care. Normally, that alone brought a smile to my face, despite Voldemort's chaos."

"Have you felt any change in appetite or in your sleep?"

"No."

"What about your decision-making?" Cho asked. "Do you have trouble making decisions?"

"No, I'm fine on that."

"Do you feel empty emotionally?"

"Empty?" asked Harry. "You could say that, in a way. Apart from sadness, I feel nothing. Like no other feeling exists."

"Have you harmed yourself, or attempted suicide? Have you thought of harming yourself?"

"No."

"Harry, could you answer this questionnaire? It's got 21 questions, all multiple choice?"

"Sure," Harry said. He answered the questions in silence, as Cho brought some books and flicked through them, in search of something.

When he was done, she looked over the questions, and sighed.

"Harry, it seems that you are clinically depressed," she said. "Wait, hear me out. I must tell you that I am not qualified to diagnose this, nor treat it."

"Let's say I am," Harry replied. "What do you suggest for me to do?"

"I advise that you go to a therapist friend of mine. She studied with me in the undergraduate degree. Her name is Lucy Smith."

"Does she know of your magic?"

"Nope," Cho said. "And there-in lies the problem. Lucy is one of the most amazing people I've ever heard of. She'll be an incredible asset to your treatment. But you can't tell her of magic, it would break secrecy laws, which have become stricter these past few years. There is also the issue of medication. Many drugs will have a different effect to magical people, including the fact they will react with potions that you have ingested, or will ingest."

Cho stood up, and began pacing the room. Harry sat back down to give her room.

"I have to play a part in your treatment. You will discuss with her your feelings etc... Something any human will feel. On the other hand, how you feel in regards to a magical aspect will have to come to me. I could look for another magical therapist..."

"I won't trust them with this information," Harry said, firmly.

"I thought so," Cho said. "Which leaves only me. I'll have to brush up my skills of therapy, or I'll damage you worse."

Harry laughed nervously at that.

A/N: I enjoyed writing this chapter.

Some of you may have recognised the Beck Depression Inventory. To those of you who haven't, it's a 21 multiple-choice questionnaire that's used for preliminary diagnosis of clinical depression. I must stress that I have no experience in psychology. If you feel unwell, go to a professional.

To lighter matters now. How are you taking the story so far? I write this with two goals in mind. One, to be as original as possible. I want this experience to be different from any other story you will ever read, Harry Potter fan-fic or otherwise. Two, I want my writing to effectively get you readers in. To draw you with simple words, and yet give you a vivid experience.

Am I succeeding in either? I would love feedback.

Note: Those of you who are curious, in the U.S. to enter Medical School, one must generally do two/three years in a university first. In Canada, one must finish an undergraduate degree, generally. In Great Britain (and most of the world), however, one can go to med school directly after high school.