Chapter Six: The Emptiness

He could hear noises around him, but nothing was clear. Someone was speaking to him but it was like he was underwater, he couldn't make out any of the words. He tried to open his eyes but everything was blurry, he didn't think he had his glasses. There were more words before something was tipped into his mouth, it tasted warm and he was overcome with a pleasant, sleepy feeling. He tried to fight it for a moment, trying to make something of the blur around him but finally he gave in and drifted back to sleep.

The next time he woke he felt more grounded, his head wasn't swimming as much and it was easier to open his eyes. The world was still blurry around him, but he could make out two people next to him.

"Harry." One of them said gently, his voice was elderly and soothing. "Here are your glasses." Harry took them gratefully, placing them on straight away. His vision cleared and he was able to see the features of the two people near him. The closer one, who had handed Harry his glasses, was indeed as elderly as he sounded with a long beard and long grey hair. He was dressed in strange colourful clothing and had silver half moon spectacles, but his voice and smile were kind. The second man was dark haired and pale and had a much less friendly expression, his dark eyes were narrowed and he was wearing the same kind of strange clothes but all in black.

"Harry, do you know who I am?" The kindly man asked, peering at him carefully.

Harry shook his head slowly, looking around and taking in his surroundings for the first time. He winced a little as he realised he had a pretty decent headache, and his hands seemed to be trembling of their own accord. "Where am I?" He was in a bed and it seemed like some kind of hospital, although he had never been in one before.

The older man exchanged a glance with the dark man, his smile turning to a frown. "I will explain everything, Harry." He assured him gently. "But first, could I ask you a few questions?" Harry nodded silently in response. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Harry frowned, trying to recall his most recent memory. "I was at school. It was just an ordinary day really." He said softly. The older man smiled reassuringly, gesturing for him to continue. "Um…" he shrugged nervously. "I went home, went to bed. That was yesterday, then I woke up here."

The man gave him a long, sympathetic look before nodding with a sigh. "That's what I feared, Harry. It seems you've lost some of your memories." Harry frowned, rubbing his forehead. He didn't feel like he had, there was no time missing. He could clearly recall the events of the last few days, he hadn't gone to school on Monday or Tuesday and had stayed in his cupboard, but he had gone back the last two days. Today should have been friday, the last school day before the weekend. Dudley's birthday was tomorrow, the Dursleys were planning to go to the zoo.

"My name is Albus Dumeblore." He motioned to the silent man behind him. "This is Severus Snape. We are teachers at a school you've been attending for the past year." He explained gently. Harry frowned, that couldn't be right. "It's the same school your parents went to when they were your age, I taught them as well. Do you remember anything about your parents, Harry?"

He winced slightly, shaking his head. Talking or asking about his parents was the quickest way to get a punishment from Aunt Petunia. "They died in a car accident when I was a baby." There was a knock at the door before it opened abruptly, there was a man in strange lime green clothing who entered quietly.

"Mr. Potter, you're awake." He said cheerfully. "What a pleasant surprise. I'm just here to administer your potion." Potion? Did he mean medication? The man who had introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore went to the door, speaking in hushed voices with the newcomer.

Harry found himself staring at the dark man whose expressionless, fixed black gaze met his own intensely. He winced as his headache nearly doubled in strength, squeezing his eyes closed. When he looked away the dark man, Severus Snape, was frowning and his eyes were narrowed. Harry swallowed looking away quickly, he didn't think this man liked him very much. Harry wondered what he taught and thought perhaps it was mathematics, he had never been particularly good at it and maybe that's why this 'teacher' didn't like him.

The older man returned from the door holding a small glass tube with a cork stopper, it didn't look like any kind of medication Harry was familiar with but the Dursleys had never taken him to the doctor before so he couldn't really be sure.

"Take this, Harry." He said kindly. "It will help with the shaking, and the headache too." Harry glanced at it warily, he seemed trust worthy enough but you never could really tell. He could be one of those psychologist people the Dursleys would often warn him about, seeming nice and asking him questions about his home life so they could take him to an orphanage or foster care where he would be treated even worse than the Dursleys treated him. He had met a boy in foster care once and he'd had a foster father who had beaten him every single day. He had stopped showing up at school last year some time, Harry wondered what had happened to him.

"Harry." The voice startled him out of his musings, and he jumped, suddenly feeling very anxious. His breath came faster and he felt like he wasn't getting enough air all of a sudden, his heart felt like it was hammering out of his chest. He gasped for breath, his whole body flooded with adrenaline and making him want to flee. He glanced around desperately as the walls in the small room felt like they were closing in, there was no way to escape.

"Take a deep breath, Harry, try and calm down." The voice barely penetrated the fog in his brain, he felt like he was going to lose consciousness if he didn't get more air soon. "Severus, do you have a calming draught?" A moment later something was pressed against his lips. He tried desperately to push it away but the liquid went into his mouth. A few seconds after he felt the anxiety melt away, his breath started to even out and the black spots in his vision cleared away. He blinked slowly as a wave of calm came over him, making him a lot more tired all of a sudden.

"Have a rest, Harry." The older man said gently. "We can resume this later." Harry nodded thinking that sounded like a much better idea. He felt calm and content now, it seemed like a great time for a nap even in the presence of the two strangers. He closed his eyes and within a few seconds he was floating away into a strangely calming emptiness.

…

Severus met Dumbledore's tired gaze as the boy fell asleep, the Headmaster had put on a brave face for Potter but now he looked tired and concerned. "What do you think, Severus? Is this permanent?"

Severus frowned, shaking his head. "I couldn't say, Albus." He said finally. "I legilimanced him for a moment but it caused him pain and I saw only emptiness, his memories may be blocked off behind a mental barrier, created to help the boy cope with what has happened or they could be gone entirely. It's difficult to know. A mind healer would be far better equipped to find out."

"I will have a mind healer here to see him tomorrow then." Dumbledore said tiredly.

"Perhaps someone from the Janus Thickey ward." Severus added, making Dumbledore wince. He felt bad for only half a second before justifying his somewhat cruel remark, it was Dumbledore's fault the boy was here in the first place. It had been a whole week since his desperate flight with Potter from the castle and the boy had been mostly unconscious since, his physical symptoms had improved greatly with a very aggressive regime of the improved cruciatus-relieving potion Severus was providing. Dumbledore had been overly optimistic in hoping for no mental aftereffects of his exposure but Severus rather thought the boy had gotten off lightly, memory loss was nothing compared to what could have happened to his mind under such torture.

The majority of his wounds had been able to be healed, the chest wound had scarred badly due to a spell one of the death eaters had used that prevented it from being fully healed and it would likely bother the boy to some extent but otherwise the major concern was the over exposure symptoms. The improved potions would help, they already were helping, but Severus wasn't sure if the damage would be completely reversible. He would be able to decrease the frequency of doses over time but it was likely Potter would be reliant on the potions for a very long time.

The mental aftereffects were still unclear, it was difficult to know whether Potter's memory loss was as a result of the cruciatus curse or a coping mechanism resulting from the trauma that he had been through. If it was the first then it would most likely never come back, it would be permanent just as the Longbottoms deficits were permanent. If it was the latter then a mind healer could help the boy recover his memories, although Severus thought it was kinder that they leave the boy be. Dumbledore would be loath to lose all the 'progress' he had made with Potter over the last year in shaping his mindset towards the Dark Lord, but better to start anew than to force back memories no eleven year old deserved to have in their head.

"Has the mark settled, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, gesturing to his left arm where the dark mark stood out red and angry.

"A little." Severus said simply. "I believe he has moved on from sheer fury to plotting his revenge." His words were light but his tone was the opposite, they both knew how serious a situation they had on their hands now that Severus had enabled Potter to escape. The Dark Lord would not rest until he had Potter back, and Severus dead for his treachery.

"Your spying days are over, at least." Dumbledore said with a sigh. "You will no longer have to risk your life for information."

"And yet I'm no safer." Severus scoffed. "Perhaps more in danger now than I ever was as a spy."

"Yes," Dumbledore admitted. "But you saved Harry, that must count for something. I know you didn't do it for him, but we will all be forever in your debt just the same."

Severus bristled a little at the insinuation that he would have left an eleven year old at the mercy of Voldemort if it hadn't been Lily's son, but if he was honest with himself he truly didn't know what he would have done if Lily's eyes hadn't been looking back at him, pleading for mercy. If it had been his Godson Draco, or one of his Slytherins, Severus believed he would have acted the same. If it had been just Potter's son but not Lily's…well he supposed they would never really know.

"He won't be safe." Severus warned, his eyes falling to Potter as he breathed evenly in the bed. "He may be safe here, for now, with you standing guard…" He trailed off. They both knew Dumbledore couldn't guard Potter forever, he had important work to do for the order now that the Dark Lord had actively returned.

"I am working on it." Albus said simply. Severus nodded before finally turning to leave the boy to sleep. He would stay close and continue brewing Potter's potion in St. Mungo's laboratory, it wasn't like he could go home to Spinner's End now anyway, that was the first place the Dark Lord would look.

Not for the first time Severus wondered if saving the boy was worth the personal cost. He knew Lily would hate him for even thinking it but sometimes he asked himself the question anyway, despite thinking he would never truly know the answer.

…

If Harry had to choose one word to sum up the next week he spent recovering in hospital it would be overwhelming. Having Albus Dumbledore explain all about a whole new magical world that he had supposedly been a part of for a year now but had no memory of was overwhelming. So was hearing what had supposedly really happened to his parents, and the reason he had lived with the Dursleys for almost a decade.

Hearing about Lord Voldemort, an evil wizard who had killed his parents and now had a personal vendetta against him and had taken him captive for a week and tortured him halfway into insanity…overwhelming wasn't even a strong enough word for that.

He didn't know what to think. Supposedly he had believed all this the first time around and taken the old man's word for it, believing it enough to go and attend this magical school. It didn't seem very believable or very likely to him. There were still so many questions that couldn't be answered in short conversations that the headmaster deemed him recovered enough to withstand, he would get a few answers only to be told "That's enough for now Harry, we have to take it slowly so as not to overwhelm your mind while it heals." How ironic. He couldn't be more overwhelmed if they had tried.

He wondered how on earth they had convinced the Dursleys to let him go. He hadn't been allowed to go on so much as a field trip before, the Dursleys always too worried he would say something incriminating.

He wondered if these people supposedly knew his parents so well why they had left him with the Dursleys in the first place, only to bring him back at the age of eleven.

He wondered how he had been taken captive by the Dark Lord Voldemort, supposedly posing as a teacher at the school. How do you accidentally hire your own world's version of Hitler as a teacher?

None of it made sense. Dumbledore gave some vague explanations but most of the explanations made even less sense to him, leaving him more confused than ever.

He kept his wonderings to himself as he had long learned to do all his childhood, asking questions was never a good idea. He would figure this all out himself, somehow, but right now he needed to figure out who he could actually trust.

None of the people he had met yet had given him any real sense of safety or security, they all seemed like total strangers to him.

Dumbledore, while kind and grandfatherly, also seemed like he was always leading Harry towards some kind of predetermined road. Every conversation went exactly where he wanted it to go, he only answered questions he thought were relevant and redirected anything Harry asked about that didn't fit what he was choosing to reveal. It was subtle and perhaps he really was just trying to protect Harry's mental state, he truly didn't know if he was being overly suspicious or rightly sceptical. He didn't remember being a suspicious person in general and couldn't pinpoint where it came from but he felt a very definite distrust of all the adults he had met so far, none had truly managed to gain his trust.

Then there was the Weasleys and they seemed nice enough for complete strangers. Dumbledore had brought them to see him the second day he was awake and for a short visit every day since until yesterday, when Harry had quietly and politely requested he have a break from visitors.

"Why Harry?" As always he seemed gentle and kind. "Do you not like the Weasleys?" Harry had shrugged and not given an answer, but inwardly he knew it wasn't that he didn't like them he just didn't know them. They had come in the first time crying with happiness to see him, trying to hug him and sending him almost into a panic until a doctor had stepped in and asked them to give him some space.

They had talked endlessly about how much they loved him, how brave he was, what a good friend he was and how close they all were to him. Ron, especially, had apparently been his best friend and he did nothing but try and spark Harry's memories by talking about experiences they'd supposedly had together.

Harry knew they probably meant well but he found it very distressing to hear them all talking about this other Harry Potter that he didn't even know, a brave hero of a boy who had fought a troll and tried to stop an evil wizard. He had apparently made friends with everyone and that didn't match with his own experience of never having a single friend before in his entire life. The parents said he was like a son to them and that really struck a nerve, he didn't have parents. His parents were dead. He had an aunt and an uncle who hated him and no one else in the world who so much as cared he even existed. Hearing how this other Harry Potter was like a son to them did nothing but make him angry, and resent them visiting at all.

Then there was Severus Snape. The dark man, the one who was there every day but never really said anything except the occasional "Here, Potter." When he handed him his potion every two hours. Harry still felt like Snape didn't like him, but since he never really said anything he still couldn't be sure why. Dumbledore had told him that Snape had been the one to save him from Voldemort but Harry found it hard to believe, Snape really didn't seem the type to risk his life for someone he didn't seem to like at all. Whenever he asked anything about his rescue or his time in captivity he was told by Dumbledore it wasn't the time, they wanted the memories to return on their own. At least Snape was predictable, he was always there every two hours, even through the night, and he never made any conversation with him.

Then there was the most overwhelming part that he tried not to think about at all - magic. Just the thought of it made his stomach turn uncomfortably. He had been told all about magic, first by Dumbledore, then by the Weasleys. How wonderful it was, all the amazing things it could do and how well he had been doing at learning to use it.

He had tried not to believe it at all but there was only so many times he could watch Dumbledore perform magic to prove it to him and still argue it wasn't real. He had levitated objects, he had changed the colour of his clothes, conjured animals and even made himself invisible. It was either real, or Harry was completely hopping mad and hallucinating, he wasn't sure which situation he hoped was the truth.

He couldn't explain his reaction to magic but it was visceral and it was undeniable - he hated it. The first time he had seen a spell it had made him panic, his breath coming quickly and his brain feeling like it was starved of oxygen while his heart pumped out of his chest. He wouldn't say it was a flashback because he didn't remember anything but he had an overwhelming sense of fear that he couldn't explain. Snape had given him something that calmed him down in an instant, what he now knew to be a calming potion.

Dumbledore told him he was probably just overwhelmed and that they needed to take a break and try again later, but it had happened the second time as well. And the third, and the fourth. It didn't seem to matter what kind of magic that was used, seeing any spell cast at all sent him into a panic attack almost instantly.

Dumbledore had wanted to keep exposing him, hoping he would get used to it but after the fifth day Harry had outright refused him. He had no interest in learning about something that he was instinctively so terrified of, and didn't understand why Dumbledore continued to push the issue so much, bringing it up multiple times a day. The doctors (or healers as he now knew them to be called) at least had pity on him and stopped using overt spells around him unless they had to, and if they needed to for a medical reason they would warn him and provide a calming potion beforehand.

Dumbledore would watch with a light frown, only to smile reassuringly when he noticed Harry looking at him. He was always there, the entire day and Harry would sometimes wake at night and see him in the corner of the room. Harry couldn't help but wonder why the headmaster of a school didn't have anything else more important to do than to sit with an amnesiac student day and night but he didn't have the courage to ask. Snape at least had a reason to be there so often, he was apparently brewing the potion that Harry was taking so frequently, the one that stopped the shaking and the terrible headaches. Dumbledore had explained it was an 'unstable, experimental potion' that had to be administered within a certain amount of time after brewing. Harry felt a little bad that the potions teacher was apparently stuck at the hospital brewing potions for Harry on a constant cycle around the clock, but Dumbledore had assured him that the frequency of the potion would decrease over time.

Still, spending all your time brewing a potion and giving it to a student you really didn't like had to suck for Snape, or perhaps being stuck here doing this was the reason Snape didn't like him much in the first place. He didn't know how this was going to work when he went back to the Dursleys, would Snape be dropping the potion off there? He couldn't imagine his relatives agreeing to that in a million years.

It took him a while but he finally worked up the courage to ask on the seventh day, waiting until Snape brought him one of his night time potions while Dumbledore was out of the room. He didn't know why he didn't want to ask Dumbledore instead, he supposed it was probably because he was never satisfied with the headmaster's half answers.

"Will you still have to bring me potions when I go home, sir?" He asked quietly before Snape could leave the room, clearly taking the potions master by surprise.

"What, Potter?" He sounded irritated, and Harry fought the overwhelming urge to retreat and abandon his question all together.

"Um," he swallowed nervously under Snape's intense gaze. "I just meant…I heard the healer say today I could go home soon. I was just wondering if I'll still need these potions at home."

Snape stared at him for a long moment before speaking. "Potter, you're not going home." He said finally, his tone marginally softer than before.

"I'm not going back to the Dursleys?" Harry asked, eyes widening slightly. He hadn't even let himself imagine that he wouldn't be going back there once he was healed.

"The Dursleys?" Snape said sharply. "Vernon and Petunia Dursley?"

Harry froze as his tone became harsh again, wondering what he had said wrong. "Yes, sir." He nodded. "My aunt and uncle are my guardians." There was a long, tense moment of silence that made Harry wish he had never broached the topic at all. What had he been thinking? He had clearly angered Snape far more than he had meant to with his question.

"I wasn't aware." He said tightly, giving nothing away. "But no, the Headmaster wishes for you to go back to Hogwarts for the rest of the summer until the new school year starts."

"Oh." Harry felt his heart begin to thump in his chest and tried to stay calm, evening out his breathing. "Do I have to go there?" He asked softly, wringing his hands in his lap.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to?"

Harry shook his head slowly. He had thought long and hard since he had first learned about the magical school but after everything he had heard he thought taking his chance with the Dursleys, who he at least knew where he stood with, was the safer option. Magic was terrifying and he didn't want anything to do with it if he could help it. Maybe he hadn't felt that way the first time, this braver, heroic version of himself that everyone liked so much, but he couldn't help but see where that bravery had gotten the other Harry. It had gotten him captured, tortured, and now here without a clue what was going on, he would have been better off never going to Hogwarts at all.

"Perhaps Petunia has changed after all if you would prefer to go back to her care." Snape muttered, almost unwittingly.

"You know my Aunt?" Harry felt confused, if the potions master knew his relatives why hadn't he mentioned it earlier? He couldn't imagine Vernon or Petunia voluntarily hanging out with a man like Snape in his wildest dreams.

"I did, once." He said with a frown. "I'm afraid it doesn't matter how beloved your relatives are ro you Potter, the Headmaster has decided it's the safest place for you. The dark Lord doesn't do well with being bested and he will be quick in seeking revenge."

Harry didn't bother correcting him about the Dursleys, already used to keeping his mouth shut about things like that. "I didn't do anything though, technically it was you that bested Voldemort." He regretted his impulsive words immediately as Snape flinched, scowling darkly.

"Do not say the name, Potter." He hissed. His right hand went to his left arm, seeming to rub something under his sleeve. "I see the headmaster still has much explaining to do. I will let him finish it, since it is up to him to decide what you should and should not be ready to know." With that he turned on his heel, making it clear to Harry he was done with the conversation. Harry lay awake thinking about the interaction, turning it over and over in his head.

As always he was left with more questions than answers. How did Snape know his relatives? Did Dumbledore really have the power to make him go to this magical school he didn't want to attend? How did he know that what they were all telling him was even true? Snape had so much as admitted that Dumbledore was choosing what he did and didn't say to Harry, keeping important information to himself.

Harry felt a wave of frustration as he thought on it further, not sure what options he had now. He tried once again to reach into his memories, trying to find something, anything that could confirm or deny that what he was being told was the truth. There was nothing. It was all empty, just empty space where an entire year supposedly should be.

He felt more alone than he had ever felt in his life, even lying in his cupboard at the Dursleys. At least there he had known the Dursleys hated him, known who the enemy was and what he needed to do to survive. Here everything was so confusing, he couldn't trust anyone and didn't know who, if anyone, had his true best interests in mind. He couldn't help feeling like a pawn in a very large game that he didn't know anything about, not even the name or the players. It was an awful feeling and it made him anxious, like almost everything did these days.

He pushed the thoughts back and tried to control his breathing, focusing instead on the emptiness. He lay for a long time trying his best to think about nothing, just the swirl of grey that was the emptiness in his head, until he finally fell asleep.