Chapter 14
What Slips Through the Cracks
Failure is a curious thing. Failure can encourage and motivate. Failure can cause growth and learning within someone. Failure can be destructive and dangerous. Failure can warp most everything good and make it evil. Failure is not a fun thing to deal with.
Dumbledore's spell failed.
But only by his definition.
Realities crossed.
Lines blurred.
And mere students were faced with a difficult question: define reality.
o.o.o.o.o.o
(Harry Potter and the Prison of Azkaban, by JK Rowling, exert from chapter "The Flight of the Fat Lady")
Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.
"What happened?" he asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy.
"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."
"Excellent," said Fred, who had followed Harry through the portrait hole. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."
Harry threw himself into a chair beside Ron, his high spirits ebbing away. Hermione seemed to read his mind.
"Harry, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."
"Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages—"
"Ron!" said Hermione. "Harry's supposed to stay in school—"
"He can't be the only third year left behind," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry—"
Everything about those few moments was normal. Ordinary.
And very, very wrong.
Fortunately, people noticed.
o.o.o.o.o.o
Tyler Pomfrey woke late on a Tuesday morning, haven fallen asleep with a fever the night before. His sister, Ciara, perched on the end of the bed, a quill stuck between her teeth as she studied something. Normally Mum didn't let Ciara anywhere near him when he was sick. "Hey, sis."
"'Sup," Ciara grumbled, distractedly. "Mum had an influx of patients during the night. She wants me to make sure you stay in bed this morning."
"Did the flu start going around?" Tyler asked, sitting up. Ciara had utterly no interest in their mother's profession, but Tyler wanted to be a healer with everything in him. He wanted to help people.
Ciara shook her head. "Nah. Mum said it was a bunch of random, unconnected things. It was weird though; people becoming suddenly clumsy. Horrible dreams for a few students. Harriett's under observation because of—" Ciara tapped the top of the quill against her forehead as she struggled to remember the specific symptoms of Harriett's illness "—erm, something about severe distortion of her perceived reality. She ranted on, sounding almost like that odd Ravenclaw girl."
"Oh," Tyler shrugged his shoulder. He still didn't feel so great. "Anything else?"
"Nah. Well, Katie Bell – you know, that friend of Queenie;s – she talking about things that didn't exist; that's what Mum said."
"Like what?" Tyler asked. He knew his sister probably didn't know. She was a medics daughter, so she knew a lot, but she just didn't care.
"I don't know, something about a school pla—" Ciara stopped talking. Her mouth hung open as she and Tyler stared at each other, not fully comprehending what was going on. "A school play." Ciara repeated. "And…"
At that moment, Rebecca Hooch burst into Tyler's room, tears streaking down her face. She hurled herself onto the bed, among her closest friends, and started shivering. "Something's wrong!" Becks cried, through her tears. "Something's very wrong!"
Ciara looked like she wanted to go punch whatever made her friend hurt. Her brother had much more of an even head. "What happened, Becks?"
She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. "I was in the library… you know, just looking for a book to read and I saw Harry so I said hi – I know I'm not supposed to, but I still did – and he looked like he didn't know me and that redhead boy that got in all that trouble for hurting his sister—" She trailed off, sniffling.
"Becks?"
"Well, that redhead told me to go away like a good little first year and stop bothering them. Then he shoved me. What happened to the staff kid pact? Why did Harry act like he didn't know me?"
Tyler swallowed. Something very, very wrong had happened. Someone forgetting about the school play… Harry forgetting about Becks… That wasn't right! "We'll find out, Becks." He needed to talk to Mum. He needed to talk to Mum and soon.
o.o.o.o.o.o
Megan bounced down the Hufflepuff stairs late Sunday morning. She figured Sally-Anne must be ill or something, but then, even some of her stuff was missing. Hannah and Susan were playing chess by the fire. Megan headed over. "Hey. Either of you see Sally-Anne this morning?"
Hannah shook her head. "Do you think she might have gone to the hospital wing? A lot of people have been sick lately."
"I'll go check," Megan said, walking cheerfully out of the Hufflepuff basement towards the distant hospital wing. She was in a good mood, but that vaporized when she reached the hospital wing. Sally-Anne wasn't there. That's when the panic set in. Megan raced to the library, but Madame Prince hadn't seen her friend. That sent Megan running to Professor Sprout. The Hufflepuff Head of House was worried; she definitely remembered seeing Sally-Anne in classes on Friday and around the school that Saturday. And Megan said she hadn't been seen all morning.
By the time Sprout had finished gathering information on the whereabouts of her all students, Professor Flitwick had been alerted to the absence of all of Luna Lovegood's possession. Everyone remembered seeing her around in the past few days as well. The professors came to a grave conclusion. Two students were missing.
o.o.o.o.o.o
She'd only just arrived back to Hogwarts, yet Hedwig was distraught. Her connection to her human had fluctuated for a few seconds, causing him great pain and passing that pain onto her. She tried reaching for him and could touch him but received no response. What had happened to her human? Her Harry? Sunlight peeked into the owlery only through the most upright of slats; it was midday and most of the owls curled in on themselves, sleeping. Hedwig remained in the center perch, clicking her beak whenever the change in her familiar bond twinged. A few of the owls opened an eye to glare at the rhythmic sound, but no one dared challenge her. Only a few of the larger owls held a higher position in the owlery hierarchy than the small snowy. The few who'd dared challenge her had been quickly put back in their place.
Still – Hedwig clicked her beak, nervously – she wanted the connection with Harry back. The heat came first, filling the enclosed owlery with the room, disturbing the more climate sensitive owls. Hedwig fluffed her feathers. The fire came next, just a quick, startling burst of flame as Dumbledore's phoenix exploded into the open air of the owlery. At this, every single sleeping owl jolted to attention, staring down at the magnificent bird of flame. Fawkes ruled the Hogwarts air; no owl dared disputed that. Fawkes, were he so inclined, could decide who lived and died when it came to Hogwarts airways. But he was not so inclined, because he was a phoenix and incapable of such an act.
Hedwig spread her wings and lowered her head: humility, respect. She was the only owl in the middle. That made her stand out.
Daughter of Dark, Fawkes said, speaking to the minds of all the owls. He spoke to all, but each and every owl knew he spoke directly to the snowy. You need to come with me. We must right a horrible wrong.
Father of Fire, she murmured, desperately trying to keep her thoughts respectful and not too nervous, what can I do to help?
Come, Fawkes said. He swooped, burst through the hatch doors that normally a human needed to open, and waited for Hedwig to fly out. The other owls hooted and cawed, from jealousy or encouragement, Hedwig did not know. But she did know this – if she returned to the owlery after helping the phoenix, not even the bigger, more imposing owls could challenge her leadership. The snowy flapped her wings and burst out into the sunlight. It wasn't bad. She could fly in the sunlight. Fawkes swooped down and caught her in his talons. Hedwig couldn't help it; she mentally shrieked and physically hooted as fear coursed through her feathers. What was he doing?
And then the heat became unbearable.
Owls had trouble seeing, even on the dimmest of days. The heat surged through her very veins and all she could see was swimming, whirling red, orange, yellow. It hurt. Hedwig felt herself screaming as she tried to withstand the heat and the colors and the…
It stopped. Still, Hedwig couldn't catch herself when Fawkes let go. She tumbled through a few feet of air and smacked into a cold stone room. Cold. So cold. It hurt. She blinked twice. The room was thankfully dark. At last, her sense of balance maintained and Hedwig felt confident enough to rise into the air within the small little room. It was small. It was dark, with the only object of some interest in the room a small, dull orb which rested on an ornate pedestal. Fawkes hovered over the orb, his face full of grief and anger and other emotions that Hedwig couldn't name. The whole air reeked of magic and power. What happened here, oh Father of Fire?
The magic of Hogwarts was used for ill. Has been used for ill. I fear it will be a great manner years before the castle shall be fully replenished of its life.
She didn't understand. What does that mean?
It means, Fawkes whispered, grief-filled, that the school has truly reached its lowest point. We must heal the people before we can begin to try and heal the school.
Hedwig flapped languidly, just enough keep her hovering. She wanted a perch. How?
By fixing it, was all Fawkes would say. But I don't know how. I've tried— here, the phoenix bent his head over the dull, used up magic orb and let three tears drip from his grief-stricken eyes onto the orb. The orb shuddered and weakly glowed for a second before fading out. Hedwig felt magic incase her, uplift her, but it faded as quickly a clawprint in sand. It doesn't work. Before Hedwig could ask, Fawkes answered her next question. I brought you here because you are bonded with he-who-can-restore-Hogwarts. It will not be easy, but one day, your human will bring this school into a glory that it has never previously held.
What am I to do? Hedwig hooted, awed.
Fly, little sister. Fly with him. Help him.
What does that mean?
You will know, cooed Fawkes, it won't be for a while yet. I can sense that. But when the time comes, bring him here and he will know. Hogwarts may be restored. He launched forward, wrapped his claws around Hedwig, and flamed her away. The heat and swirling colors assaulted Hedwig. She screeched. And then it stopped. Hedwig fell into the middle of the owlery and managed to wrap her claws around the upmost of perches, barely regaining her balance in front of her brethren. Fawkes was nowhere to be seen.
Hedwig, one of her braver companions, an older screech named Lars hooted, where did the Father of Fire take you?
She didn't know how to respond. Hogwarts.
And from that cryptic answer on, Hedwig was the undisputed queen of the Hogwarts owlery.
o.o.o.o.o.o
"Mum!" Ciara shouted, as soon as her mother entered the closed off office. "Something's wrong!"
"I know, Ciara," Madame Pomfrey said, sagging against her desk. "How's your brother doing?"
"Fine, Becks is with him." Ciara narrowed her eyes. "Tyler said that you should be checking people for, for," her eyes rolled back, as if searching her memory, "for effects of badly cast memory charms? Something like that. Are there really memory charms? I thought that was only in story books."
Pomfrey stared at the wall, half-listening to her daughter. It was possible, in all actuality. The majority of these symptoms could be explained by a half-botched memory charm. She didn't know if there was a scan to see if someone had had parts of their memory erased, but she did know that obliviated memories could be restored. Somehow. She was not a mind healer. The matron of Hogwarts moved to her fireplace and floo-called St. Mungos. The receptionist, one Desiree Hampton, greeted the nurse with a high degree of familiarity. "What do you need this time, Poppy?"
"Can you send over a mind healer?"
"Again?"
Poppy blinked. She didn't remember requesting a mind healer recently. Maybe this was worse than what she'd seen. "Yes. I am wary of some sort of mass, blotched obliviation spell."
Desiree blinked. "Poppy, that's likely illegal!"
"Yes. I know. But I need a mind healer for verification."
Ciara hid a smirk at her Mom's irateness.
"Yes, yes," Desiree said, already moving away from the fire. "I'll got get Healer Mena right now." She ran off. Poppy headed back into her overly fully hospital wing, leaving Ciara perched on the desk, sucking on the beginnings of a sugar quill. The girl resisted a smirk; she loved it when her mum had patients. When she had other people to fuss over, she wasn't so hard on her. The little girl hopped of the desk and headed through the office and the door that led them back to their private chambers. Becks and Tyler were waiting for her.
"Accomplished," Ciara said, handing a sugar quill to both her friends. "Mum's so busy she didn't even notice when I grabbed these from her stash." Before Tyler could roll her eyes, she continued, "And yes Tyler, it was surprisingly easy to get her to floo Mungos what with the memory charm comments. Those things are real?" She repeated, in astonishment.
"They're probably illegal," Becks said, sliding the casing off her quill and popping the end of it in her mouth. Neither she nor Tyler were overly concerned with Ciara's thievery; she'd done it before. "Or you have to have a permit to cast them, or some other regulation. What if they're dark?"
Ciara huffed. "That's too logical."
"And that's bad?" Tyler said, putting his quill on the table and resolving to lick it later. He didn't want to get sick again.
"That's annoying," she complained, poking her brother. "Anyway. A mind healer is coming, so people should be able to remember the right reality soon enough."
"But what if we made a mistake?" Becks muttered. "What if it's not the memory charm? What if we're the ill ones."
"But neither of you were sick," Tyler objected. "And a lot of students were sick. Oh, and Aunt Rolanda came running in here while you were out – Ciara – said she needed to go look for two missing students. Which was… odd."
"Who?" Ciara asked.
"Luna Lovegood and Sally-Anne Perks. I don't know Perks, but Lovegood was that crazy Ravenclaw. I know it." Tyler said, annoyed. "Why doesn't everyone remember she's at Mungo's?"
"Yeah," Becks said. "But I haven't gotten the chance to ask Leann or Orion who Perks is."
"They might not know," Ciara pointed out. She pulled the sugar quill out of her mouth with a loud pop.
"Harry'd know," Becks whispered, grumpily.
"Rebecca," Tyler admonished, "really. If people were obliviated, he was probably obliviated too. He honestly doesn't know who you are!"
The little girl stubbornly refused to accept that.
"It's going to be carnage, you know," Ciara made a popping sound with her sugar quill again. "We should go down to our Great Hall room and watch it from there." Neither Tyler nor Becks agreed with her. Huffing, Ciara headed down to the room herself. She was only half-right.
Carnage didn't begin to cover it.
o.o.o.o.o.o
Healer Mena arrived in short order. The old, stately woman looked annoyed at being pulled away from her hospital, but when she accompanied Poppy into the hospital wing, all irritation vanished. Harriett Patterson lounged in the closest bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Alyssa Mena cast a quick diagnostic spell, silently, over Harriett. The girl glowed a faint blue. Mena frowned, and before Harriett could make some witty retort, Mena had moved to the next victim. He showed the same blue signature. Without speaking a word, Mena cast the same spell on Madame Pomphrey, who glowed as well.
Mena's eyes narrowed. Her grip on her wand tightened. "If you will excuse me, Madame. I need to go call the aurors." Mena disappeared into Poppy's office, leaving the nurse staring at her various charges, halfway between relief and shock. What had obliviated most of the school? What could be the purpose of that obliviation? In less than a minute, Mena exited the office, followed by three high-ranking aurors.
The hospital wing floo was the only floo allowed to accept any authorized traveler. Sometime last year, Poppy had insisted that such methods were necessary, so St. Mungos would only be a floo call away. Dumbledore had not been happy. She stood to the side as Mena guided the aurors to Harriett's bedside and spoke in hushed tones about the memory charm. The aurors nodded and asked something that Poppy couldn't here. Mena answered with a negative. "Poppy," said the healer, "I want this entire school assembled in the Great Hall in half an hour. The rest of St. Mungo's mind healers should be here by then. If this problem extends beyond the exorbitant amount of people year, I'll need the help." Mena paused. "And I mean the entire school, including those kids of yours and whoever else might have been in the castle last night."
Poppy tried to like Mena. She really did. Sometimes it was just so hard. The elderly healer disappeared back into the office. The matron looked around at the more injured of her sick patients. "All right, everyone, get each other to the Great Hall. These aurors will accompany you." The procession started immediately; most people had been paying attention to the cryptic, frightening words of Mind Healer Alyssa Mena. Poppy exited her wing and briskly walked towards the Headmaster's Office. She was not looking forward to ordering him to gather the student in the Great Hall.
Dumbledore was, by no definition, an easy man to work with. She had to argue with him for a good ten minutes before he let her key into the rarely used speaker system. "All students, report to the Great Hall immediately. All students, report to the Great Hall immediately. All staff, escort and stay with students in the Great Hall." That should be enough to get everyone into the Great Hall. And her kids knew that if everyone was called to the Hall, they were instructed to report to their own little room behind the staff table. "This means you, Dumbledore," Poppy mumbled, acerbically. She strode from his office towards the Great Hall, tension building every second. Some students fell in line behind her; mostly Ravenclaws. They were obeying her orders. Good.
In the Great Hall, it was orderly chaos. The students were loud and boisterous, but they stayed at their individual tables and let the four Heads of House walk up and down, checking to make sure everyone was there. Poppy slipped into the back room; Tyler, Ciara and Becks were sitting there, staring up at her. She nodded to both of them, pulled out of the room and watched the students calm down, at least by a little. Dumbledore had claimed his seat at the head table, looking completely in control of the situation. Had he, the Great Albus Dumbledore, been obliviated as well? Only Sally-Anne Perks and Luna Lovegood turned up missing. The notable presence of the three aurors was definitely formidable, although when Ruth Turpin bounced up and started chatting to one of the younger ones like they were best friends, the anxiety directed towards the law-keepers lessened.
Precisely on the thirty minute mark, Alyssa Mena blasted open the Great Hall doors and stomped through the tables, followed by eight St. Mungo's professionals and four or five mind healers in training. At this, Dumbledore raised a finely controlled eyebrow. He really had no idea what was going on. "Professors, Students," Mena said, her voice sonorused and so easy to hear. "We believe that a good majority of you have been charmed to forget some unknown amount of time and experiences. For many, this information has been replaced with fake memories. The staff of St. Mungos is here today to undo that." There was a pause in her speech, but silence reigned in the Great Hall. "I can't guarantee that this will be easy.
"Memory is an exceptionally powerful thing. It is also exceptionally fragile. The process to regaining memories is lengthy, and you may have some adverse physical and emotional responses to our procedure. We ask that you try to remain as composed as possible when whatever has been obliviated has come to light. Rest assured that whoever is responsible for conducting this memory charm did so illegally and shall be punished to the fullest extent of the law. Healers Harper, Johnson, you start on the staff. Is there a volunteer from the students who doesn't mind going first?"
Harry put his hand up. He was in a bad mood and this, well, who cared. It wasn't like it actually mattered. Harry's hand was the only one in the air.
"Good, come up here, sir."
He stepped up towards the mind healers and Alyssa Mena pointed him towards a youngish looking man. The man pulled him off to the side of the Great Hall and instructed him to sit on a conjured rug. "I'm Healer Kensington. You can call me Vince if that makes you feel more comfortable." Vince sat down on the rug across from Harry and peered into the boy's face. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" At Harry's glum nod, Vince shrugged. "Okay, what I'm going to do is go into your mind. It won't hurt. I'll have to sniff around a bit, but I assure you, everything I see in your mind is completely confidential. Once I find the memories that have been locked away, I'll free them. Understand?"
"Yes," Harry said, uninterested.
Vince dove into Harry's mind. He was right, it didn't hurt, but it did sort of tickle a bit. Various random memories popped into Harry's mind. The dementors and Sirius Black were at the forefront. With the dementors came all the horrid moments at the Dursleys, his mom's screams, killing Quirrel, nearly loosing Ginny… he could feel Vince's mental shudder at those memories. I'll help you, Vince spoke, to his mind, if you aren't getting help already, I'll make sure you never have to go back to the Dursleys again. Emotion quivered between their minds. Harry didn't remember someone making him that offer before. In a few, short moments that seemed like a lifetime, Vince found the pocket of memories that had been bound away.
Mentally, he poked at the vile feeling magic until he found a lose area and dove in, breaking apart the bond on Harry's memory.
Harry's screams were the first. He was soon joined by the few other students and a staff member who'd reached this stage in the process. Students cowered.
In just a few seconds though, Harry had acclimated to this influx of new memories and was able to watch the past month and a little more scroll through his head. Wait. He was a Lord? Ron was...? Hermione. Ginny. Dumbledore? What… the boy clutched his temples. Sociality. Campaign of Sociality. Sarah. Neville. Able. Paradise. Help from Aurora. How could he have forgotten this? The play. The patroni! Here, he felt Vince's further surprise. Runes! Languages! Fairytales! How could he have forgotten this? Harry managed to focus in on the world around him.
Vince had pulled from his mind and sat there, in front of him, a worried expression on his face. Harry stared at the Healer, shocked. "Why… why would I forget that?"
"Magic, Mr. Potter, is not always used for good." The young man conjured a small piece of parchment with writing on it. "If you ever need help, or want training in any of the Mind Arts, please don't hesitate to contact me. Or if you need a good psychotherapist…" Vince chuckled. "Send one of your friends over to me, when you sit down, all right?"
Harry got to his feet, tottering a little as he tried to balance. A few other people were finished. A Gryffindor seventh year – Emma, Harry knew her now. He made eye contact with Emma and she was shaking. Just shaking like a leaf in the wind. She could barely move. Mechanically, Harry made it back to the Gryffindor table and sat down between Neville and Hermione. "Neville—" He manage to gasp out. "Go see that Mind Healer over in the corner." A scared looking Neville did as he was told.
Hermione and Ron, who was sitting across from them, stared at him, obviously curious. Ron… Ron… Ron… ex-friend. Mean. Bully. Ron. "What was it like?" Hermione asked, skeptical of Harry's shell-shocked appearance.
"Horrid," Harry said. "We forgot over a month and I—" He started to curse, very rapidly in mixture of Latin, Egyptian, and Greek. People stared at him. Down the table a ways, Patricia Stimpson raised an eyebrow at him. Emma made her stuttering way down the table, stopping every few steps to regain her balance. She stopped by Harry.
"Harry…" Emma whispered, her voice weak. "Which is reality? I know, I know they said that the one that was locked away was… was… but I can't shake either of them. I remember both of them. What's reality?"
Harry quivered. She was a seventh year. He was a third year. He didn't know how to respond. "Reality is what we take from it," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He failed. "Reality is the world we create from this moment on."
Emma nodded, derisively, and walked further down the table, more secure in her step now.
"Okay, Harry," Hermione muttered, viciously. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"
Harry opened his mouth to explain. He really did. "Um—"
Over by Vince, Neville screamed and started to convulse.
Across from him, Ron looked quizzical. Ron…
Harry ducked beneath the table and retched.