Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling

Part 3/Chapter 3

Bellamy left France in the afternoon. His disapparation had been a spur of the moment thing, done without preparation, and without the clear mindedness essential for the feat which could be so dangerous. Without a destination in mind, he arrived at a place which had once been familiar to him. A small town in Queensland, Australia. Roma. And straightaway, he knew it was Roma, although it was the middle of the night, and lightly raining. A great feeling of ease and contentment came over him, but he was so terribly, terribly weary. He found a neglected park, found a hidden place, and put down the backpack he'd been carrying. He started to wrap himself in his cape, but paused and pulled out his wand. The wand was sent to his home, where it would be safe.

And then he slept. He slept on and on, quietly, deeply. And as he slept, the knowledge of his world and his past gently slipped away. He no longer knew that he was unique in his world, and he no longer knew that he was needed, regarded as indispensable for the cures he could work that no-one else could work. He no longer knew that he had ever been the great wizard, and he no longer knew that he had once been the innocent boy whom a furry bear called Mario, had loved.

For over twelve hours he slept, finally woken by the sound of children playing, laughing and calling, and throwing stale bread to ducks. Inconspicuous in his black cape, hidden by shrubbery, Bellamy stretched and smiled. He felt light, clear headed. He felt wonderful, although he was wet through. He was at ease with himself. He was Henry Bellamy, he was young, and he had enough money to last him years if he chose. He had no past, no future, no responsibilities. He was no longer a crazy man, and had forgotten that he was ever a crazy man. The sun was shining.

He rose from the puddle which had developed under him as he slept, and used his casual magic to clean and dry himself. The wizard cape was vanished. He had no use for the garment, now. He was hidden enough that he could even change his clothes, and the good quality clothes he'd worn were also vanished, as he put on casual jeans instead, and the brighter coloured of his two shirts.

Before the knowledge that he could work magic slipped from his mind, he put a charm on his backpack. It wouldn't be stolen. And although he'd forgotten that he sometimes became lost, he put something else on his backpack, like a signature, so that he could always find it again. His actions were not quite comprehensible to himself. It didn't worry him in the slightest.

And then he slipped on the small backpack, and the most famous wizard in the world went shopping in a small country town in Australia. He needed a jacket, and although it wasn't the gloriously bright red he fancied, he found a suitable jacket. He thought he had plenty of clothes now, but stopped when he noticed his reflection. His hair was shoulder length, and unevenly cut. Ruth, in the local hairdressers, gave him a neat, ordinary cut. He was pleased with himself, and would have smiled at Ruth in a different fashion if he hadn't noticed her wedding ring.

He was strolling again, aimlessly. He had a meal, and afterward, became sleepy. This time he booked in at a motel, and again slept a long time, from afternoon until early morning. He woke smiling. The idea was fully formed. There were farmstay places near Roma, where you could ride horses, and someone gave you meals. Sylvia, at Reception, knew just the one. She gave directions, not realising that he had no car, even phoned for him and booked him in.

He remembered breakfast only because he started to pass a fast food place on the outskirts of town. He was never fussy about his food, but this time, he took a bite, and frowned at the cheese burger before shrugging his shoulders, and eating it anyway. And then he started walking, referring occasionally to the little map Sylvia had given him. He wore his glasses. Sylvia had a wedding ring, too. He'd noticed.

There were horses, as he wanted. He was supervised the first time. Joel Campbell, the owner, needed to make sure that he was safe before allowing him out on his own. But his strange guest saddled his horse as if perfectly familiar with the process, while Joel watched critically. He rode in no formal style that Joel knew, but he seemed safe enough, and developed an instant understanding with the sedate gelding.

After that, even before breakfast, he'd whistle up 'Lightning' and amble off, bareback, seldom even bothering raising a canter. After the second day, Joel asked if he wanted a more lively animal, but Bellamy declined. He liked people around him he knew, he said. Joel refrained from pointing out that Lightning was not a person.

There was a swimming pool, but it was April, no longer summer. It didn't stop Bellamy, who swam every day, lapping the pool again and again, tirelessly. Joel shook his head, but made sure the pool was always sparkling clean and ready for use, even as the weather began to turn more cold. He was an undemanding guest, uncritical, and apparently perfectly content to do nothing but ride, swim, and sometimes read.

After several days, a regular guest came to stay for a week. She had a stressful job in the city, and found the relaxation she needed with Joel and Meredith. Bellamy was introduced at dinner. There was suddenly an aura about him that had Helen staring. Meredith herself felt it, and wasn't in the slightest surprised when she noticed them going to Helen's room together. She wasn't surprised, either, when Helen extended her stay.

Helen began to be more curious about Bellamy. At first, when she started asking questions about his past, he'd put her off with more love-making, until she forgot her curiosity. She soon realised he didn't like to be questioned about his past, and refrained. She never thought of him as a long term prospect, as he was obviously younger than herself, and seemed to have not the slightest aim in life. But he'd given her such pleasure that the morning she was to leave, she suggested a token. She would give him her watch, and he would give her his.

He agreed, casually, but when she started to pull off the sensor device, he said it didn't work well, and gave her the other instead. She caressed his wrist, as she strapped on her own good quality watch, noticing the scar, and saying nothing. She had come to the conclusion that there was a reason he never spoke about his past, and this scar, like all the others, probably had something to do with it. So she kissed him again with a great deal of affection, and returned to Sydney, taking with her the long range location device that Graham had put on his wrist a month or so before.

The aurors had already been in Sydney as well as in Melbourne, checking for signals from the location devices he wore, and found nothing. They were searching Europe, and they were searching America very thoroughly, since he'd asked to be paid in American dollars. Even without the watch, Bellamy still had location devices on his glasses, his backpack, and his shoes. But the aurors never came within range. Helen now wore his watch, but after a while, when her fiancé became more possessive, she put it away with a few other mementos.

After six weeks of an undemanding life, Bellamy rose one morning, knowing that it was time to go. He'd been contented, living purely in the present. He had always enjoyed vigorous activity, and had always become restless with too little to do. Yet he'd been contented, even after Helen left. He hadn't even gone into town, and declined when the Campbells suggested various activities. So they left him alone.

He started walking, going east. He fed himself well, bought himself meals regularly, and stayed in motel rooms. There were women along the way, and he stayed a while with Jennifer, with Melissa, and with Kylie. His mind was clear. He no longer turned a vague and innocent stare to the world. But he was not himself, either. He had yet to recover the utter joy in life that he'd once had.

The day that he only found his way back to his motel from the feel of the charm on his backpack, and later realised that he'd forgotten to eat, he lay on his bed a long time looking at the ceiling. It was coming back, a confusion that he'd forgotten had ever plagued him. He had to stop drifting. Somewhere, some time, there had been a friend who had referred to a big and difficult job. Work that had to be done, but just a little at a time.

That night, as he slept, he became restless, and finally spoke aloud, a bitter protest. "It's too hard!" But in the morning, he was clear-minded again.

"A job on a cruise ship," said the man at the employment agency. "Just like that, eh?" But the man in front of him was young and goodlooking, in spite of his glasses, and cruise ships liked employing the young and goodlooking. He made a phone call, and handed Bellamy an address. "Go see this man, and he'll tell you if there's anything available."

The stout man that Bellamy wound up seeing, rudely smoked a cigar, and blew noxious fumes into the air. Bellamy was polite. The man said reluctantly, "Well, there's a French Canadian ship in, the Belle Chartreusie, but you'd have to speak French, of course."

Bellamy nodded. "I speak several languages, including French."

The man raised his eyebrows, but job applicants often lied, and they'd soon see if he could speak French. He was given an appointment for the following day. The note that went separately said that he'd claimed to be fluent in French, and made no mention of other languages.

Bellamy had wanted a job in a cruise ship because there was a knowledge within him that he would be looked after, fed regularly, and have a bed. And he couldn't wander off and get lost. Somewhere inside him, he hoped for a warmth that he didn't quite remember. It never occurred to him that he was being employed under false pretences, pretending to be normal, while knowing that he was not.

On this ship, Bellamy had a small cabin to himself, as they all did. He fitted in easily, although making no close friends. He was clear-minded as he learned his way around, learned his job, and came to know his workmates. And when a proposition was put to him one day by one of his work-mates, for the ease and comfort of both of them, he declined with an easy courtesy.

The Belle Chartreusie cruised the world, and catered mostly for the very wealthy. They picked up passengers and dropped passengers off at many ports. They had some permanent passengers, too, who had discovered that a continual cruise was not much more expensive than decent nursing hostel care, and with far better food. He saw Estelle a lot, as she walked slowly around the ship, getting her daily exercise. There was old Berthe, too, also Sam, and Jock who looked so ancient that he was surprised to learn he was not long past eighty.

One morning, as Bellamy passed by on some errand, Estelle was knocked over by an early morning jogger, and it was Bellamy who helped her to a chair. She hadn't even realised that there was a chair so conveniently to hand. After that, he always kept an eye on the old ones, watching for hazards, and with a strong arm ready if they needed it.

He occasionally used magic again, knowing that he was a wizard, but not thinking about, or quite remembering his past, or thinking about his future, either. Graham's words had come back to him. I think you should work at re-learning to enjoy each day as it comes. Forget about the past, forget about the future. Live in the present, and only in the present. And when an indefinable fear and a grief came to him in the night, he refused to allow it to take over. Sometimes there was a confusion that tried to seep in, but this time, Bellamy was waging a war. It was not time yet to face everything, but he still had a struggle to remain clear minded.

He concealed his battle from others, as best he could, and no-one knew when he had to feel his way back to his room by the charm he'd put on his backpack. His work was simple, mostly working a split shift these days, early morning cleaning, and kitchen duty during the passengers' midday and evening meals. He didn't think anyone knew that sometimes his eyes filled with tears and he didn't know why.

His supervisor saw him a couple of times, shaking his head, as if to throw off a headache. And once, he had to remind him of the job that he was supposed to be doing, but Bellamy was trying very hard not to need prompting, and managed to stifle the occasional impulse to wander off, instead of doing what he was supposed to be doing.

It was Estelle who surprised him one morning, as he walked with her, listening to her describe the pampered poodle owned by her daughter-in-law. Estelle was laughing, and Bellamy laughed with her. It seemed her son couldn't get into bed with his wife without running the gauntlet of little Fluffy-Bot. And with a totally abrupt change of subject, Estelle told Bellamy he should take himself to the ship's doctor, that there were very good drugs for depression these days.

Bellamy looked at the old lady with a great deal of surprise, and then turned his steps again to walk slowly with her at her pace.

Estelle was crossing her fingers that he was not offended, but he only said, "You're very perceptive."

Estelle touched him, and said, "Get help. And if you don't get help, you can tell me if you like. I've no doubt that I've heard it all before."

Bellamy said simply, "Thank you."

Estelle gave him a shrewd glance. "You have no intention of sharing your troubles, do you?"

"I guess not."

Estelle spoke with asperity. "Young people always think that older people won't understand, but usually things that bother them are so boringly mundane, and boringly repetitive."

Bellamy half grinned as they continued the walk. He always liked to walk with Estelle. He enjoyed her wry comments and her sharp intelligence. Bellamy couldn't quite remember what bothered him most of the time, but asked her. "So what would you recommend as treatment for various unspecified problems, aside from drugs which I have an inherent objection to?"

Estelle snorted. "You need a girlfriend, that's all, solves most of the ills of mankind!"

Bellamy laughed, "Sounds an excellent treatment. But I don't think we're allowed to play with the passengers, and there's not a single female crew member not spoken for!"

Bellamy was in full agreement with Estelle. He was probably only suffering from an excess of celibacy. Bellamy's immediate supervisor was a man called Marcel. Marcel regarded the young man with a look of amusement when he was asked the question. Are crew allowed to go with the passengers? He shook his head, definitely. "Can't have the girls getting their feelings hurt!"

But Bellamy persisted. "What if one just went with older, more experienced women?"

Joking, Marcel said he was allowed to go with any single woman passenger who was over forty.

Bellamy objected, "It's a bit hard to tell sometimes if a woman's over forty; over thirty would be better."

Marcel still thought he was joking, and said "Over thirty-five then!"

Bellamy was next seen escorting a divorcee to dancing lessons.

In the morning, as he mopped the floor, he had to be reminded that he was too close to the passengers' cabins where most still slept. He wasn't allowed to whistle, and besides, he whistled very badly.

***chapter end***