AN: Welcome everyone! This chapter we get to explore the aftermath of the memory magic experiment, so I hope you enjoy it. As always feel free to leave a comment/review. I love reading each and every one :)
Chapter Twenty Three: Experiments and Consequences
-MP-
Harry watched helplessly on as Flitwick rushed to crouch down at Hermione's side, the longer she remained in her state, the writhing intensified contorting her body in horrific ways. Interspersed with eerie periods of silence leaving Harry unsure on which one was worse.
Ron was in the corner, he paced back and forth relentlessly, the panic on his face more evident than ever. When Harry finally caught a glimpse of his face he could tell that he had been crying. Guilt gnawed at him, having never seen his friend like that before absolutely beside himself with worry for his wife.
He switched from watching his friend back to the professor, who still kneeled on the floor as his hands and wand drifted over various places of Hermione's body. He murmured constantly, many words Harry had no understanding of but he was putting every ounce of faith he could summon into the well liked charms master.
Flitwick traced his wand down Hermione's left arm, the magic he was performing projected a wispy grey screen above her. It seemed to Harry that he was checking for internal damage of some sort, as he thought he recognised the spell from his many hospital stays over the years. A few moments later his wand stopped, and he turned to face both Harry and Ron with a worried expression and stern tone on his tongue.
"Would either of you care to explain what really happened today?"
Harry's eyes immediately flicked to find Ron, who was no longer pacing but was rooted to the ground, fists bunched up and fury contorting his face.
"Yes Harry!" Ron angled his head abruptly to face his friend. "WHAT were you two really up to?"
Harry was taken back in surprise, he tried to speak but only stammered out half a reply. He thought he had given Flitwick enough information when he had travelled to Hogwarts to request his help, but he knew that he couldn't withhold anything that would hurt his friends. Especially, when they got hurt simply because they tried to help him.
"Okay…" He sighed, pushing aside the feeling of defeat. He had to make the right choice and that would undoubtedly be, saving one of his best friends.
He pushed his fingers up either side of his nose, pinching the bridge tightly before he released it.
"It was memory magic." He said as he turned away unable to look Ron in the eyes as he said the words.
Flitwick's breath hitched slightly in response, as he took a purposeful step towards Harry.
"Mr Potter. I don't think you were entirely truthful during our earlier conversation at the castle."
Harry fidgeted with his hands, an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety dancing through him which coupled with Ron's anger made for an increasingly uncomfortable sensation to build inside him.
"That's because I don't fully understand it myself!" He shouted back demonstrating his own frustration.
"Look, before this I had only begun to research memory magic as a speciality but Hermione, as always, had beaten me to it. She actually offered to perform whatever happened today!"
He looked back across at Ron, who had finally relaxed his fists . He hoped Ron would understand. This wasn't supposed to happen.
Meanwhile, Professor Flitwick needed to turn his attention back to Hermione. "I think what you two tampered with today is a very specific, and very rare memory charm. The one I am thinking of, is where the caster has the ability to enter the mind of another to view the very fabric of memories themselves."
Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise, had Hermione known what kind of magic she was attempting to perform? Or had he pushed into trying something she didn't fully understand yet.
Flitwick paused and looked at the other two men in the room thoughtfully. "Let me contact an old friend, just to give Mrs Granger a look over as well."
Ron nodded and re-joined his wife where she lay, Flitwick had given her some pain relief and cast an additional sleeping charm on her so she longer writhed around. She looked almost peaceful, sleeping, despite the panic the rest of the room was feeling.
Harry stood still, wondering whether to join Flitwick outside or tentatively approach Ron.
Not even a minute seemed to have passed by when Flitwick entered the room again flanked by a rather elderly looking witch, her face sour and stern with her wand tucked into the front pocket of her apron. Except, she no longer sported the traditional dress of a school medi-witch but instead an apron somebody would use for gardening.
Flitick grinned mischievously at the two men, both of them looking equally as dumbfounded at the person who had just walked into the Weasley's living room.
"I take it you two remember Poppy, or how you knew her – Madame Pomfrey."
"Y-yes…" Harry stammered, struggling with his words for the second time during the evening.
"Good to see you both Mr Potter, Mr Weasley." She nodded to each of them individually as she strode over to Hermione. "Of course, I only know you both by name due you both being frequent fliers in my ward."
Somehow, the almost jovial nature of Madam Pomfrey's presence was enough to cut through the tension in the room. Both Harry and Ron's shoulders drooped back into their normal positions, the sense of relief coating them like a balm on a wound.
Harry and Ron moved back from Hermione and stood side by side, they watched nervously as Poppy kneeled down much like Flitwick had done earlier. She waved her wand and muttered various incantations, her assessment much faster and much more adept than Flitwick's had been.
Before long, she picked up Hermione's wrist and felt for her pulse, finding it steady and even beneath her fingers.
"Mrs Granger has been very, very, lucky this evening."
Both Ron and Harry's eyes widened in shock, their focus now entirely on the medi-witch as they hung onto every word.
"She has a bad case of magical exhaustion, which is rarely seen these days as most wizards and witches do not push themselves to such a critical point of depletion. During the two wizarding world wars I saw cases of this every day."
Ron glanced back and forth between Poppy and his wife, before relenting and diving to her side and scooping her hand into his holding on tightly.
"So, she's gonna be okay?" He asked, his watery eyes glimmered slightly in the low light.
"Yes, Mr Weasley. She just needs plenty of rest and a potions regimen to regain her strength over the next few days and possibly weeks"
"Thank Merlin." Ron breathed, as he lowered his head onto his wife's hand so he was resting against her. As if together, they could be the strength the other needed.
Poppy walked over to her medical bag and collected the supplies she brought with her, she wrote down the list of potions Hermione would need and passed it to Harry and she said her goodbyes before Flitwick escorted her out of the room. Still exchanging words about Hermione's care, as Harry could hear the last of the conversation as they approached the Weasley's front door.
Ron lifted his head up and caught Harry's gaze who was scanning over the list, he had already offered to go and pick up the required potions from the Diagon Alley apothecary when his friends' piercing eyes met his.
"Harry." He said, with a much sterner and confident tone than earlier. "When she's better, you are both going to sit down and tell me what on earth is going bloody on."
Harry nodded, feeling the heavy weight of shame pulling him down. "Of course. Anything you need."
Ron turned away and curled in close to Hermione, Harry decided to head for the door but just as he was about to pass through the threshold he quickly spun on his heels. "I'm sorry Ron, I really am."
With those last words he continued to the front door, Ron ignored his gesture but Harry couldn't really blame him. He would feel just as angry and betrayed if somebody had put his wife in danger like that. He closed the door behind him just as Poppy was apparating away from the Weasley's cottage. After exchanging a brief and thankful look with his old professor, Harry too, had somewhere he had to apparate to as well.
-MP-
Over the course of the following week, Hermione had stuck strictly to the four potion a day regimen prescribed by Poppy. Both herself and Flitwick had been by several times to check on her, and Harry had been making daily, sometimes multiple times a day visits.
He hadn't fessed up to Ginny about what had been going on, or how Hermione had ended up so injured. Especially, as his initial excuse of it occurring at work made very little sense as she worked at a desk and did not partake in field work. A fact that she had pointed out several times, over several arguments.
Hermione had reached the point in her recovery where she was able to be much more active during the day, she had started to use basic spells again with the aid of her wand and everyone involved in her care was sure, when given enough time, she would make a full recovery. Despite the blanket of fatigue that seemed to smother her daily.
So, he had to keep his word with Ron and explain the situation to him. Hermione had agreed that it was the best thing to do, and now he was done with yet another long day at work attempting to track down the rogue potioneer who had now progressed to muggle baiting. He was heading to the Ministry of Magic fireplaces to use the floo network to the Weasley cottage.
Harry wrapped his fingers a fistful of floo powder and threw it down at his feet, the dust rose quickly around him and before he broke into a coughing fit he made sure to yell his destination "Weasley Cottage!" and within seconds the green flames flared around him and pulled him in every direction until he would appear in the grate of Ron and Hermione's home.
A tired looking Hermione smiled from where she sat on the sofa, a traditional leather settee with many knitted throws donated by Mrs Weasley over the years. "Hey Harry."
He smiled back at her, a little more widely than he intended as he was happy to see her up and about. "Hey." He replied.
Ron then appeared in the doorway, attracted by the sound of voices coming from his living room. He nodded briefly at Harry before sitting down next to his wife. Harry, understanding that Ron wanted to talk sooner, rather than later, also sat down on the opposite sofa.
"Well." Ron spoke assertively. "Let's have it then."
Harry's eyes shot to Hermione who seemed to agree with Ron's statement. Harry leaned back into the soft leather sofa, his muscles seemed to tense throughout his body, he hadn't noticed before but it was like he was tired to his very bones. He lifted his hands to his face and sighed before dropping them to his sides, taking note of the quickening he felt in his chest.
"Well…" Harry sighed wearily, forcing his gaze upwards to face both of his best friends. "It all started with Minerva losing her memory."
Ron nodded curtly. "Well that part we all knew." He added sarcastically. "Go on."
Harry sensed Ron's impatience, but little did he know that he was struggling to draw on his inner strength. A voice deep inside was almost toying with him, convincing him that nobody would believe the ludicrous story he had managed to concoct. That he was experiencing grief and denial, everything else he was simply imagining.
"I visit Minerva nearly every night, and over time I noticed that even though she had lost her memory it was like she was still in there somehow."
"Look." Harry emphasised, fixing his eyes onto Ron's. "You remember what it was like when Lockhart obliviated himself, he turned into a bumbling idiot. He had no sense of who he was, where he was or that the magical world even existed!"
Whilst Harry spoke he seemed to gain more confidence, he was no longer slouched against the back of the sofa, and was now sat upright, unable to stop the words tumbling from his mouth.
"Minerva wasn't like that at all!" He gestured his hands upwards with enthusiasm. "She reads Transfiguration Today, plays chess and steals her wand to perform magic she shouldn't even know about!"
Ron seemed to be reticent to believe Harry, he had made all the right sounds and nodded in all the right places but Harry would tell he didn't really believe or understand what Harry was saying.
"That doesn't exactly explain why my wife nearly died though, does it?" He demanded, as a glint of anger flashed across his features for just a moment.
Hermione placed her hand reassuringly on Ron's knee. "I have a name, Ron." She chastised gently. "Please,… let him finish."
Ron relented to Hermione's wishes, giving Harry the space to continue with explanation
"Then, when me and Hermione went to Minerva's office to collect her things we discovered something she had hidden in the walls. It was a large cabinet full of memory vials."
That last sentence caught Ron's attention in particular, he arched his eyebrow as Harry finished. "Memory vials?" He questioned. "Like, when you had all those lessons with Dumbledore?"
"The one in the same." Harry added. "But this time there weren't just the memories Dumbledore had collected on Riddle, there were hundreds in there, some from Minerva and others that I'm not sure of yet. There's loads of them."
"So me and Hermione took the cabinet and stashed it away in Grimmauld Place. Since then I have been going back and exploring the memories when I can, up to now I have seen bits of Minerva's childhood… until…" He stumbled on his last words, thinking back to his last trip to Grimmauld Place when the cabinet began to emit the swirling coloured lights, causing him to panic and quickly slam the doors shut before anything else could happen.
"Until?" Ron pressed, seeming more invested in Harry's tale at this point.
Harry swallowed hard, preparing himself to sound crazier than he had ever seemed up until now. "Well… until…" He breathed in sharply, before he forced himself to finish the sentence as words fell rapidly from his mouth as he hurried them out. "Until the cabinet started emitting all these strange, colourful lights…."
Hermione gasped loudly next to Ron, her hands pressed flatly against her mouth, it was then that both men noticed how she had broken out in what appeared to be a cold sweat.
She shook slightly as he lowered her hands and turned to face her husband, clinging to him for support much like had done only days before.
"I saw those lights too…" She whispered as tears traced her cheeks, they were strong enough to cause her to huff between breaths. "I saw them when I was inside Minerva's mind!" she finished, her voice cracking as she cried.
"What?" Harry shouted before he could stop himself. "You've seen them too?"
She nodded weakly in reply, Harry looked between his two friends unable to decide on what to do next, or without any further understanding of what it all meant.
"What do the lights mean?" Ron asked, his face reading to be just as perplexed as Harry felt inside.
Harry froze at his friend's question, because that was an answer he simply didn't have. Suddenly feeling like he was back at school, fumbling around in the dark as he looked across at his friend and answered limply. "I have no idea."
Hermione meanwhile had managed to subside some of her panic, she released Ron's arm which he shook lightly to stretch out the tension she had pressed into it. He smiled gratefully at her, letting her know he didn't mind.
"Harry." She said, her voice sounding more even. "I think you should keep viewing those memories."
Ron's eyebrows shot up at his wife's words. "Are you mad?" He almost shouted in disbelief. "That is what almost got you killed in the first place."
"Well." Hermione spoke, finding some level of sternness to coat her voice. "We had better find out how on earth this is all related. Because I, for one, do not want to repeat my experience from nearly a week ago."
Harry mused in agreement; he wondered what happened when Hermione performed the advanced memory magic. Nobody was entirely clear on what she did or more importantly, what she saw but he didn't want to press or force her to tell people when she wasn't ready.
He knew first-hand how dreadful it can be to recount a traumatic experience for people, over and over again, until you distance yourself away from it, to numb it into nonexistence.
However that was a short term solution, as one day, it might not be tomorrow, or next week or even ten years from the day it happened. But one day, all of those memories will come charging back, forcefully, devastatingly making a person go to any lengths to make it stop.
After looking back across at his two best friends, Hermione had laid herself back down on the sofa whilst Ron tucked a blanket around her to keep her warm. He couldn't help but think of Ginny, he wanted to grab her by the arms and tell her everything but at the same he didn't want whatever was at the root of all this chaos since Minerva lost her memory to get to her too.
His mind danced back and forth between telling her and keeping the secret hidden, Ron had obviously been too distracted to tell him to come clean and for once he was thankful not to have him on his back.
He quietly decided that he would indeed go back to Grimmauld Place and look at more of the memories; it felt imperative now, more than it had before to look deeper into what was happening. Perhaps those memories would be the key, and now his two best friends knew about them too, there was a freedom – to keep pushing.
Just like when they were kids, a trio together, preparing to face whatever challenge whether small or large lay ahead of them.
-MP-
