Disclaimer: J. K .Rowling owns Harry Potter and his world.

Chapter 13:

The next month, young Archie Barnes, now living in London, and working as a security guard, married Ursula Parker. Bellamy was not well enough to attend, rather to his own relief, but sent a generous wedding present. Archie's parents, who managed his wealth, were disapproving, but Bellamy insisted, and became irritable when they objected. "Whose money is it?" he said. They did as he asked.

Archie was triumphant. He'd set his heart on marrying one of the descendants of the great wizard, and Ursula knew him as Grandfather Harry through both her mother and her father. There'd been a lot of competition for Archie, as it had become a matter of prestige to marry one of the Potter clan, but Archie was a bulldog once he'd set his mind on achieving a prize, and he had developed a tender love for the pretty girl. Ursula was a nurse, as had become something of a tradition in her family. She was loyal and hardworking, neither especially talented nor especially intelligent. Just an ordinary, nice girl.

Three weeks after the attack, Bellamy was still tired and weak. His leg was better, but his shoulder was still painful. It had been a severe injury. His depression deepened. His staff watched over him, as he was apt to forget about mealtimes, and one frosty morning, it was discovered that he'd slept at least part of the night, wrapped in his cape, in the horse paddock. In a tacit agreement, they kept their worries very quiet. No-one told even Graham, who gave Bellamy a clearance to return to work two weeks later. Bellamy didn't think of doing anything else. Graham said he was to return to work. "Start Monday again?" suggested Graham. Bellamy nodded. Start Monday.

On the far side of the world, Beth accepted a proposal from a young man of the royal family of her Pacific Island Home. He felt himself honoured. It was suitable that the greatly respected magician should marry him.

Beth was seventy-five, but looked more like forty. She'd always been plump, now she was undeniably fat. She'd always been plain, now she was no longer youthful. She was very highly respected, and the man she married gave her the physical union she needed, even if it would never be the intense communion she'd shared with Jeremiah. She was making a daily telepathic check on her father, discreetly, as he became annoyed when he thought his privacy abused. After the month long wedding celebrations were over, she'd come visit. She had to see him before he started his journey.

When Bellamy resumed his spell-breaking, he was surrounded only by experienced aurors. They stayed close, and they shielded him from the sight of others. The Ministry still wanted the prestige of having the one wizard in all the world who could break the unbreakable spells, and Kate deemed it an essential service, but his increasing confusion was to be kept as quiet as possible. He never seemed confused when he did his work, and few people knew that he'd become so quiet and passive. There didn't even seem to be any women, and Bellamy had always had women. On Graham's advice, they let him walk when he wanted, or swim, or use the gym. But they told him when to go to work, when it was time for meals, and when it was time to go home. He did whatever they said.

One Friday, instead of disapparating, he walked quietly out of the Ministry building, not appearing to notice the auror who'd been taken by surprise, but now followed him. He descended to an underground railway station, and the auror, totally unfamiliar with that method of travel, lost him. Bellamy went to a house he owned in London. It seemed to him that he should not apparate any more, as he was a bit crazy now. And this house was very hidden. He thought that no-one aside from himself and Beth knew of its existence. House-elves knew of it, and even though there were none left in his home, it was kept clean and fresh by some of their kind, who visited every few weeks.

His staff were very worried, and when they contacted the Ministry trying to discover his whereabouts, the worry spread.

Monday morning, as if he'd done nothing unusual, he walked through the doors of the Ministry building, ready to go back to work. He was thinner than ever, as he'd only had one proper meal over the weekend, and a slice of bread now and then when he thought of it, from a single loaf that he'd bought, now left out to become stale on the kitchen bench.

Maybe he was not as vague as he appeared, as again the next Friday, the aurors who followed him, lost him, and had to report back, shame-faced, that they'd lost him.

More grave discussions were held. Advisers were consulted. An ancient and respected witch, unrelated to Bellamy, gave her view that he should be put down, as a matter of prudence, to be done as soon as possible, while he was still docile. He might very likely even do as he was told, and allow his healer to do the deed.

Graham would have been horrified at the suggestion, but was in Greece, working. Others agreed with the witch. Bellamy had the power, they suspected, to raze whole cities with a glance. Hadn't he killed several thousand Dementors one long day, although no-one before him had ever been able to kill just one. He was quiet now, but what could happen tomorrow?

Tom and Kate were both at the meeting, but it was difficult for them. He was Kate's grandfather, and Tom's great grandfather. It was Manfred who spoke up for Bellamy, suggesting that maybe some tests should be made, that he could be quizzed about his feelings, that even something be arranged, see if he was safe if he was in a fight, for instance. The postponement of a decision was accepted with relief.

That Friday, Bellamy managed to lose five aurors who tried to follow him, left a location device they'd planted on him in a rubbish bin, and went to his secret place. House-elves greeted him. To the community of house-elves, he was a hero, befuddled in the mind or not. That weekend, he was coddled. He did little, mostly just stared into the fire. It may have been a mistake, stopping the visits of his family. Seeing his family, and especially the babies, had been good for him. Now he made no visits, received no visitors, and no longer apparated. Another grandchild died, and a great grandchild. No-one told him.

Monday, back to work, never questioning that that was what he was to do. His mind seemed so opaque these days. He no longer heard the thoughts of others, no matter how clear and emphatic. He never tried to look at their minds in any case, and thought he'd lost that ability, though he'd done it easily enough when he'd been fighting, seeking out the minds of his attackers, and then rendering them unconscious. But fighting was different.

Tuesday, the surrounding aurors appeared to lose him, as he walked along a footpath that led for miles along the coastline. Two men approached him, challenging him to a fight. He stared at them as if he didn't quite see them, and turned aside. One grabbed him by the shoulder that was still not quite healed, and said again, roughly, that he had to fight.

His brow creased, and he told them that he couldn't fight any more. He was not allowed.

The men glanced at each other, one shrugged, the other threw a punch. Bellamy dodged, still very, very fast, in spite of everything. The attacker was unbalanced and stumbled. Bellamy turned and started to walk away. Again he was grabbed, and again he dodged the attack.

They wouldn't leave him alone, and in the end, he turned and faced them, waiting, not dodging. They were supposed to get him to fight if at all possible. They had not been told he was a wizard, or that he could kill them with a thought. Standing still, he let them inflict as many bruises as they chose. It seemed he didn't even feel the beating. By the time they reckoned they'd earned their money, Bellamy knelt dizzily on the path. His glasses were broken.

He raised himself when they left, looking at the sea. It had an allure, and he walked straight across the sand, although staggering rather, slipped off a few clothes, and swam out to sea. Aurors ran after him, shouting. They could accept without too much worry their orders to make this test, but they still cared about him, and now it was perfectly likely he'd drown.

He came ashore, hours later, much further along the coast. He was only wearing underpants, and tried hard to remember whether he was allowed to conjure clothing for himself. Shaking his head to push back the clouds of confusion, he eventually decided that it must be all right. He couldn't hurt anyone just by conjuring clothes. He wandered then, not even noticing that he was hungry. No wizard could conjure food, although some could conjure something that looked like food.

Two evenings later, the aurors finally found him, asleep on the beach, in jeans and jumper, and with a cape wrapped around him. He was pleased to see them, and allowed them to take him back to the hotel, where Graham treated his bruises and put the anti-scarring lotion on the ugly marks where he'd been wounded. Graham had been furious when he knew the test that had been made, but Bellamy didn't appear to have come to any harm, aside from a few cuts on his feet. He hadn't thought of conjuring footwear.

They organised him a meal then, as he wasn't sure whether he'd been eating. Graham said he was appreciably thinner. Tom was with them now, and had brought a specialist in diseases of the mind and brain.

After dinner, Tom, Graham, and Healer Kunder watched and listened as Gareth subjected Bellamy to a detailed questioning. Bellamy, half the time, scarcely appeared to hear, sometimes gave a vague and irrelevant reply, but when Gareth persisted, would often come up with an answer.

Asked whether he'd been in a fight, he denied it. Asked why there'd been so many bruises, he didn't know. When Gareth finally reminded him specifically that two men had beaten him up and broken his glasses two days ago, he stared into the distance, and vaguely agreed. When asked why he hadn't hit back, he answered straightaway, and with surprise. "Crazy men aren't allowed to fight. They might hurt someone."

They stared at him in disbelief. And it was Healer Kunder who leaned forward, and asked, "Are you crazy, Harry?"

Bellamy ignored him. Harry was in the past. He was Bellamy now.

Gareth resumed the questioning. "What else are crazy men not allowed to do, Bellamy?" Bellamy was looking around vaguely, and started to rise from his chair. Gareth said, "Sit down, please, Bellamy." It was in the firm voice they'd started to use when they wanted him to do something.

Bellamy sat, and Gareth asked again, insistently, "What else are crazy men not allowed to do?"

And this time he answered, "They're not allowed to apparate, and they're not allowed to work magic."

Gareth tried Kunder's question, "Are you crazy?"

Bellamy stared into the distance, and Gareth repeated it, and Bellamy finally acknowledged it, "A bit crazy." And suddenly full awareness stirred, and he said, "I'm not dangerous, but you can put me down if you want. I won't stop you."

They were silent, appalled, even though it had been under consideration. But Tom, at least, knew they'd been fooling themselves. His Grandfather Harry would have to be proven dangerous before he could possibly order such a thing. And he was suddenly quite sure that Kate would feel exactly the same. He smiled at Bellamy, "You're Grandfather Harry. How could we do a thing like that?"

But Grandfather Harry was looking vague again, and only stared at the window.

There was a full list of clients, and two days work had been missed. Bellamy was at breakfast the following morning as if nothing had happened to interrupt the week. The tests of mental acuity and confusion/alertness made by Graham and by Healer Kunder gave as little information as before. Off the scale in the direction that indicated a brilliant mind and very fully alert. But he had to be reminded to get his wand, and then didn't know the way back to his room.

Three pumpkin-heads, including a very important German dignitary, had been waiting since early Wednesday, and pumpkin-heads were urgent. Bellamy focused his mind, rescued each of the men, and kept them calm sufficiently that they only collapsed, sobbing, when he released them from his mental penetration.

Healer Kunder was observing, sitting next to Graham. He said to Graham, "Clarence Holmes refuses to do pumpkin-heads. He says they're just too dangerous."

Graham nodded, "I've seen some records. Bellamy's suffered a lot of injuries from pumpkin-heads."

Bellamy leaned against the wall, waiting for the next patient. Like most of the areas where he worked these days, there was a room adjacent, where wizards and witches with sufficient influence were allowed to observe. Very few were ever allowed in the actual work-room. Healer Kunder was an exception. Bellamy took no notice of the others in the room with him, though they knew from experience that if the next patient was not quick enough, he was likely to lose interest and go wandering off.

The day's work went without incident, Bellamy accepting the guidance of his aurors, doing as he was told. They let him walk again afterward, as he apparently wanted to, in spite of the rain and the cold. They ordered him when needed, but let him go when they could. They stopped him swimming, though. The ocean looked grey and bleak, and they shivered as they looked. So they told him firmly that he was not allowed to go swimming in the ocean, but that he could use the swimming pool in the hotel.

He still had the beautiful build that he'd always had, though there were ugly marks where the bullet wounds had been, and he was too thin. He didn't make any overtures to a woman who shared the pool, but when she approached anyway, he suddenly seemed to remember about sex, and turned to her, smiling. The woman caught her breath, feeling intensely the sexual attraction he'd always been able to radiate with a change of expression, voice, and even, sometimes, posture.

The aurors were discreet, and discreetly guarded a different room that night. They didn't think there'd been a woman for months, and wondered whether it was part of his problem. He slept better that night, and the next, again sharing her room.

Quicksilver Ricky asked about it at breakfast the second morning. "Are crazy men allowed to have sex, then?"

Bellamy was uncertain, "I don't know," but then there was one of those disconcerting flashes of full awareness, and he grinned, "But crazy men have to do what they're told, and I'm pretty sure that she told me I had to have sex!"

They laughed. Maybe there wasn't really too much wrong with him.

Healer Kunder was still with them, still watching and observing. But that day, Bellamy needed to call up his strong magic to cure a wizard inflicted with the Prickle Curse. Gerald Kunder's nerve broke and he bolted from the room. Bellamy had to raise the level of his control of the patient, imposing a warmer calm, as such panic is infectious.

Afterward, Kunder regarded Bellamy with fear, and his report contained a strong recommendation that he be put down. Such power could not be safely held by a wizard whose mind was going.

Kate looked at his report, and vanished it. As Tom had thought before her, he was Grandfather Harry. No-one was going to try and put him down.

The work ran well into Sunday that week, and they were not confident that Bellamy understood that there was only one night to be spent at home, not three. The aurors kept Bellamy with them, guarding him in a room in a London hotel, before returning him for duty Monday.

Another week, another country. There was another woman that week, sharing his room Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights. Bellamy seemed happier and more alert than he'd been for weeks. He apparated home, arriving in the outside apparation zone, to stroll around in the afternoon sunshine, hugging his horses, and making friends with two Border Collie pups that Diane had given Melissa.

He talked with Beau, who was filled with enthusiasm as he mapped out a future breeding plan for his horses, describing exactly what he had in mind. Bellamy only wanted to ensure that they still carried the blood of Sheba, even if so far removed, and also the Pinto, a little stallion renowned for his cleverness. Most years, there were three mares breeding, and Bellamy reluctantly agreed that some of the young horses could be sold. There were far too many, and hardly any of his staff rode regularly any more. Connor Maguire should have his pick, on long-term loan as he'd always had.

Chris wanted to know whether several young security guards should be hired, but Bellamy said no, that he didn't think they'd be needed. And then, very definitely, that if anything like that attack occurred again, it was to be left strictly to the witches and wizards. Medjkind couldn't work magic.

His staff had taken matters into their own hands. For the last few weeks, the Barnes had been practising with the new rifles they'd illegally obtained, while Tracy, Naomi, Lillian and even fumbling, middle-aged Sybil had been practising defence spells. Since her marriage, Lillian no longer lived on the estate, but arrived on a daily basis to look after the gardens. It was still a large staff for an estate of only around a thousand acres, whose livestock consisted of a few dozen horses.

Saturday, Bellamy was taken by car to an animal pound in a large town thirty miles away, in order to select a couple of adult dogs to replace those killed. They should have known better. It was lucky there were only five dogs currently on death row. Bellamy was taking all five dogs, plus the dozen cats, two of them very old, and one of them an extremely ugly, now shaven, Persian. A horse box had to be sent for, and seventeen cages were loaded into it.

Bellamy stayed with the animals, soothing, calming, and already instilling in the minds of the dogs that the cats should not be chased, and that people should not be bitten. He took none of them as his own personal pets, though he did take charge of some initial training. With his unusual abilities, training animals was a simple matter of communicating his desires. Their job was to give warning if strangers appeared. To begin with, they were just to know those people meant to be there.

The assorted dogs settled down peaceably. But the resident cats, mostly tabby, took exception to the newcomers, and there were a lot of squabbles for a few weeks. The ugly Persian became the beloved pet of Sybil, who learned a special spell to make the regrown fur stay smooth and unmatted.

For weeks, Bellamy seemed almost like his old self, and the aurors relaxed. Tom always only assigned experienced aurors, though, and seldom changed them. They managed him very well, Gareth and Ricky and the others, even when he was most confused.

Simon Broadfoot died. Simon had saved his life once, and his son was now married to a great grand-daughter. And then there was Grant. Big, burly Grant, who'd been with him when he was facing a terrible threat one time, and had done his best to give comfort. He didn't go to the funerals, as he knew that again he should not apparate.

Three more deaths occurred, but he was not told, and the newspaper was somehow not available for him to read. It was perfectly obvious that again he was living in a daze. Even now, his work was smoothly competent, but the aurors overheard distressed mutterings in the night, and he was more than ever apt to wander off without notice or any apparent purpose.

The sudden death of Chris Barnes could not be concealed from him, and it may only have been Beth's arrival that saved him from total collapse. Somewhere within himself, he thought he was being incredibly selfish. It was Chrissy who had lost her husband. He should be strong for Chrissy. But Beth was strong for Chrissy, and Beth gave the comfort her father could not.

Three days later, while Bellamy was working his magic in Germany again, Beth took it upon herself to cancel any further trips. She waited for him when he returned to the Ministry Friday, and it was Beth who took him home. For a time he wandered around vaguely, talking to cats, talking to dogs, talking to horses, but with scarcely a word for humans, although making a great effort for Chrissy.

Saturday morning, she went to him, and handed him a gift. It was a money belt, and she told him that it held a great deal of money, in several currencies, as well as a spare passport and documents. They would automatically change, she said, when his actual documents were updated. She told him that there was a charm on the moneybelt, and that it would not normally be noticed. If it was noticed anyway, it would not be counted as significant, and would be quickly forgotten. And then she looked deeply into his eyes, and in a compelling voice, she told him that he should always wear it. And when he couldn't wear it, he should keep it very close. It was important. He should always wear it, she emphasised, concealed under his clothing. When he needed it, he should remember that it was there.

Bellamy looked down obediently, and repeated that he would always wear it. And then she checked his passport, and instructed him to adjust the birthdate. He was twenty-one again. She filled his wallet, and told him to keep it always in his pocket. She reminded him that his passport and work documents were also important, and that he must take care of them. And then she said, that if he wanted, he could go. He looked at her, scarcely able to believe it. He could go?

"You can go."

Bellamy left the house. She watched from the door, as he walked off down the drive without a backward glance. He didn't take his wand, took no spare clothes, no provisions, just walked away.

He was still walking as darkness fell. He wrapped himself in his cape, and went to sleep under a tree. Scarcely a thought crossed his mind. He had already pushed away all thought of who and what he was. Bellamy, formerly Harry Potter, was lost.

End of Part One.