The next morning at breakfast, Molly did not shield Harry from questioning; in fact, she was the one who first asked him to recount his tale.
"Harry, dear," she said as she Levitated a plate heaped with scrambled eggs onto the table, "now that you've had a good night's rest, would you mind telling us where you've been all this time?" It was phrased as a question, but Harry knew that he had no choice but to tell her what she wanted to know.
"Sure, Mol- er, Mrs...." His voice trailed off.
Molly laughed - not unkindly - and said, "You normally call us Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dear, although we wouldn't mind you calling us Molly and Arthur, would we Arthur?"
"Of course not, darling," he answered.
"Er, I think I'll stick to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for now," said Harry. Then, taking a deep breath, he began his story. "The first thing I can remember is waking up in my old bed at my aunt and uncle's house and realizing my memory was gone. Everything from the time I was ten years old up to that day is just a blur, and I get a terrible headache whenever I try to remember any of it. Uncle Vernon said something about me getting hit over the head at the end of term, so I figured that was the reason for the memory loss, but I don't know that I believe that anymore."
"A Memory Charm, no doubt," muttered Mr. Weasley.
"A what?" Harry asked.
"A Memory Charm," the older man repeated. "It's a kind of magic that modifies a person's memory. If whoever did it had done a better job, they'd have replaced your memories, rather than simply making you forget. Go on, though."
"Right," said Harry. "That day, we left town for the summer, and we didn't come back until the night before I left for school. They told me that I went to- I went to- Why can't I say the stupid name?" he wondered aloud. "Do you have any idea why I physically can't say or write the name of the school I was at?"
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a quick glance, and Mr. Weasley said, "I think that's a question best reserved for Professor Dumbledore. He sent word early this morning that he'll be coming by later; you can ask him then."
"Alright," Harry said, deciding that a few hours wouldn't be too long to wait. "Anyway, the Dursleys sent me to a school for really bad kids - boys, actually; it was an all boys school - and that's where I've been ever since." Over the course of the next half hour, Harry explained how he had begun dreaming about things that had happened to him at Hogwarts, finally culminating in the discovery of Ron's letter during the Christmas holiday. Then he told them how he had gotten Hassseth, his serpentine friend, to find out Hedwig's name, thus enabling him to establish contact with Ron and Hermione. Throughout the story, Harry carefully avoided any mention of actually doing magic, as the Weasleys knew he had not had a wand, and he had already learned that no one but him did magic without one. It wasn't that he didn't trust Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with this secret; he just wanted to keep it to himself until he had a better idea of what was going on. He also avoided mentioning Tyler, as he didn't see any reason to involve his friend any more than necessary.
"And to think Ron's been in touch with you for weeks, and he never bothered to tell us a word," Mrs. Weasley huffed during a pause in the story.
"It was on Dumbledore's orders, Molly," her husband reminded her gently. "If he'd gone against Dumbledore and told us, you'd have sent him a Howler for disobeying."
"I know," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I just wish- Oh, never mind. Go on, Harry."
"Two nights ago, I was sitting around, talking with Hassseth," Harry said, "when she started telling me about an evil rat with a silver paw that was looking for me." Mrs. Weasley gasped, but didn't interrupt, so he continued, "She told me to be on the lookout, and then hid inside a big crack in the wall. Not five minutes later, this rat with the silver paw comes sneaking toward me. Well, Hassseth was waiting, and she came shooting out of her hiding place and bit him around the middle. Then the rat started swelling, and it... turned into a man." Harry suddenly stopped, realizing how absurd his story must sound, even to people who were accustomed to dealing with magic, and the astonished looks on the Weasleys' faces served only to reinforce this thought.
"I know it sounds crazy, but that's really what happened," Harry said. If Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't believe him, who would?
"We know, dear," Mrs. Weasley said kindly. "It's just that... well, that rat - Scabbers - lived in our house for many years. He belonged to my son, Percy, and then to Ron. Of course, that was before he got his silver paw, and we all thought he was just an ordinary rat. It wasn't until your third year at Hogwarts that we found out he was really a dark wizard who had gone into hiding."
Harry gaped at her. Not only did she believe his story, she actually knew the rat-wizard. She only knew him as a rat, but nevertheless, the coincidence was amazing.
Coincidence? I think NOT!
~Who understood that reference?
"What happened next, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Huh? Oh, right." Harry shook his head to clear it. "After he turned into a man, he grabbed Hassseth's head with his silver hand and-" his voice broke, and tears stung his eyes.
Mrs. Weasley laid a comforting hand on his arm and said, "There, there. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
Harry shook his head and took a calming breath. "No," he said quietly, "I want you to know what happened. The man - Scabbers, I think you called him - he crushed Hassseth's head with his silver hand."
"You poor dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she muttered, "Hasn't this child lost enough in his lifetime?"
"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said as he brushed a few tears from his eyes. "She knew what she was doing, and I wouldn't have done any less for her. The ironic part is that by killing Hassseth, Scabbers killed himself, too. He squeezed all of her stored venom into his own body. After that, he attacked me with his wand, but I was able to dodge his spells until the venom took effect. Once he was dead, I took his wand just in case I'd need it, and I took off.
"I used magic to unlock the front gates of the school, but some more wizards attacked me as soon as I got outside. I saw a broomstick just sitting there, so I jumped on it and took off. Lucky for me, only one of the other wizards had a broom, so I only had to fight against one person in the air. Anyway, after I made him crash into the wall of the school, I just flew as far and as fast as I could until I finally had to either land or fall asleep on the broom. After I woke up, I wrote to Ron, and he told me how to get here."
"Extraordinary," breathed Mr. Weasley. "Of course, all of this needs to be kept in the strictest confidence," he added quickly. "Just so you know, Harry, it's against our laws for anyone who is underage to use magic outside of school, except in life-threatening situations. Of course, what you've just told us would certainly qualify, but it would be better to avoid an inquiry altogether, particularly since you got into quite a bit of trouble for using magic to drive off a couple of dementors last summer."
"I- What?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"A pair of dementors attacked you and your cousin last summer, and you drove them off," Mr. Weasley clarified. "There was a big to-do about it because the Ministry of Magic was trying to discredit you, but in the end, you were cleared of all charges."
"Umbridge," Harry muttered to himself, forgetting for the moment to ask what dementors were.
Grrrrrrrrrr
"You remember?" Mr. Weasley asked in surprise.
"No," Harry said sadly. "Hermione told me about her."
"I see," said Mr. Weasley as he glanced at his watch. "Sweet Merlin, look at the time! I'm afraid I've got to be going; I'm already five minutes late." Mrs. Weasley gave him a quick kiss goodbye, and he hurried out the door.
"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked tentatively.
"Yes, dear?"
"I- er, there's a favor I wanted to ask you," he said. She nodded encouragingly, and he continued, "I sort of... brought Hassseth's body with me."
Mrs. Weasley's eyebrows rose in surprise, but she did not interrupt.
"I was wondering if you might let me bury her here."
"Of course, Harry, dear," she said. "The children have a sort of pet cemetery near the orchard. I realize that she was more of a friend than a pet, but I'm afraid that's the best I can offer."
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Harry reassured her.
After running upstairs to retrieve his schoolbag, Harry followed Mrs. Weasley out the back door and across the garden to the edge of the apple orchard he had seen the night before. There, in a back corner of the garden, was a small, fenced-in area with three flat stones lying inside it. As Harry bent to look closer, he saw that each stone was engraved with a pet's name and picture. The small cemetery appeared to be the final resting place for a cat named Ginger, an owl named Lindbergh, and a toad named Topper.
"Lindbergh was the first one we buried here," Mrs. Weasley explained. "He was our first owl - he was already old when Arthur had him at school - and Arthur named him after some famous Muggle airplane pilot. Charlie was only four when he died, but he knew that his father had named him after the same Muggle as the owl." She laughed softly. "He was so distraught that we had a little funeral service and buried Lindbergh here. After that, it became a sort of tradition. When my old cat, Ginger, died, we did the same for her. Then, when Bill's toad, Topper, died just after his sixth year, little Ginny insisted we do the same for him. We thought we were going to have to add another pet when Scabbers was so sick a few years back, but...." She left the sentence unfinished.
Harry gingerly stepped over the short fence and knelt in the dirt. Picking up a small trowel, he began to dig. After only a few short minutes, the hole was ready, and Harry gently placed Hassseth's body inside. Mrs. Weasley conjured a flat stone that matched the others, and prepared to use her wand to etch into it a picture of the snake.
"I'm sorry Harry, but-" Mrs. Weasley hesitated for a moment before saying, "-I'm not sure how to draw her head."
"If you'll teach me how and promise not to tell anybody, I could do it," Harry suggested.
He watched as a battle was waged in her kind eyes. Finally, she whispered, "Oh, just this once."
Harry watched as she demonstrated how to use a wand to engrave both words and pictures, and then handed him the stone and her wand. Swallowing hard, he pictured Hassseth in his mind - the way she had looked when she was teasing him about his "dream girl," or when she was laughing at one of his stupid jokes. Finally, he spoke the incantation, and his mental picture was transferred to the stone. Hassseth's body was coiled with her head raised high above it, looking out of the hard, gray surface. On her face was a toothy grin.
"Are you sure that's how you want her to look?" Mrs. Weasley asked hesitantly.
"Of course," Harry said. "Why?"
"Well... it's just that she looks so... fearsome."
Harry laughed sadly. "She's smiling, Mrs. Weasley. That's how she looked when she thought something was really funny."
Mrs. Weasley suppressed a shudder as Harry used her wand to engrave HASSSETH in large, bold letters above the picture. Then, underneath the picture, he added, 'A loyal friend in the fight against evil. In life and in death, she is proof that there are noble serpents in the world.'
Solemnly, Harry scooped dirt over the small snake's body until the ground was firm and level, and then placed the stone near her head. "Goodbye Hassseth," he whispered. "Thanks for everything. I'll never forget you."
After a long moment, Harry stood and followed Mrs. Weasley back toward the house. Just before he reached the back door, Ron's tiny owl, Pig, zoomed up to him and began flitting about his face. Harry's hand shot out and snatched the tiny ball of feathers, and removed the carefully folded square of parchment from his foot. As he unfolded it and began to read, Pig took off once again, twittering excitedly.
Dear Harry,
Sorry my letter didn't get to Mum and Dad before you did. I hope there wasn't too much trouble. I was hoping to be able to come home and see you, but Dumbledore and McGonagall say I have to stay and prepare for my exams. Hermione thinks so too (big shocker there). Like any of them really expect me to study anyway!
I just wanted to say sorry for not being able to be there to meet you. When I talked to Dumbledore, he said he'd be coming by the Burrow later today. Then again, with how slow Pig flies, he'll probably have been and gone before this letter gets to you. Take care of yourself, and don't let Mum smother you too badly.
Ron
"What does Ron have to say?" Mrs. Weasley asked when he had finished reading. She was holding the kitchen door open for him, and he quickly stepped inside.
"Just that he couldn't get permission to come see me because he has to study for exams," Harry answered. "And that Dumbledore's coming later, but Mr. Weasley already told me that."
"Yes, well he'd better be studying for those exams if he knows what's good for him. According to Hermione, he usually just sits around playing chess or reading about Quidditch, and then completely panics come test time."
"Mrs. Weasley," Harry began hesitantly, "if Ron's not coming until school ends, do you think I could maybe see a picture of him? I mean, I think I've seen him in one of my dreams, but I can't be sure."
Mrs. Weasley gave him a kind look that almost bordered on pity. "Of course, dear," she said. "Have a seat at the table." Harry obeyed, and Mrs. Weasley walked into the living room, took a large picture frame off of the wall, and brought it back to the kitchen, where she set it down gently on the table in front of him. "This is a few years old, mind you; we're really not much for taking pictures."
Harry stared, wide-eyed at the mass of arms, legs, faces, and red hair in front of him. "These are all your kids?" he asked in disbelief. "I don't think I've ever seen a family this big before."
Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Yes, and you've met them all, too. This one is Ron," she said, pointing at the youngest boy, who was probably about thirteen in the photo. "I'll never forget those first few letters he wrote home from Hogwarts. He was so excited that he'd made a good friend so quickly - you, I mean." She sighed reminiscently. "Anyhow, the twins are Fred and George. Watch out for them - they love playing pranks on people. Next is Percy-" she pointed to the boy with glasses, "-he works at the Ministry - and then there's Charlie. He works with dragons in Romania - you met him a couple of years ago when he brought some to Hogwarts."
"Dragons?" Harry choked. "You mean dragons aren't just make-believe?" He knew this information shouldn't surprise him; after all, he had personally talked to a snake, done all sorts of magic, and flown halfway across the country on a broomstick. Still, the idea of real live dragons was disturbing.
"Of course they're real," Mrs. Weasley said. "You battled one as part of the Triwizard Tournament in your fourth year."
"I what?" Harry shouted. "Er- sorry, I just- well, I mean that is a bit of a shock to just find out something like that about myself. Do they really breathe fire?"
Tee hee hee.
"Of course they do. But your flying was good enough to get you past your dragon without any trouble at all. Nobody who's seen you on a broomstick can deny that you're a natural flyer."
After his experience with the flying duel not long before, Harry couldn't argue with that last statement. "Who's the one with the long hair and earring?"
"Oh, that's my oldest, Bill. I wish he'd let me trim that hair just a bit, but he insists on just letting it get longer and longer. And I don't know how he gets away with going to work with a great fang hanging off of his ear, but.... Well, I guess that's what happens when you spend too much time with goblins."
Harry almost asked how Bill came to spend too much time with goblins, but thought better of it; he didn't want Mrs. Weasley any more riled up about her oldest son's appearance than she already was. Instead, he asked, "Don't you have a daughter, too? How come she's not in this picture?"
"Oh, she's there," Mrs. Weasley answered with a wry smile. "She's just hiding in the background." She prodded the pictures of Fred and George with her wand, and they moved aside to reveal a petite girl with the same flaming red hair as her brothers. She was looking determinedly at the floor, allowing her waist-length hair to obscure her face.
"What's the matter?" Harry asked. "It's like she doesn't want to be seen. Is she really that shy?"
"She used to be around you," Mrs. Weasley said with a small chuckle. "Ginny would probably kill me if she knew I told you this, but you're going to find out sooner or later anyway. When she first met you, she was so taken with you that she couldn't be in the same room as you without turning beet red and doing something to make a fool of herself, the poor child. She's grown out of all that, of course. Unfortunately, this picture was taken when she was still going through that phase."
Harry didn't know how to react. He knew he wasn't particularly ugly or anything, but the idea that anyone would swoon over him in the way Mrs. Weasley had just described seemed laughable.
"So now you've met the family," she said at last. "I just need to tidy up a bit in here before Professor Dumbledore arrives."
Harry spent the rest of the morning helping Mrs. Weasley around the house. It was a bit strange, as she used magic for everything while he wasn't allowed to, but he was glad to help. He dusted furniture in the living room and washed the dishes from breakfast while Mrs. Weasley worked outside in the garden. After that, he helped her prepare lunch, although his contribution consisted mainly of chopping vegetables and stirring the large pot of stew - two things that he knew she could have done better with her wand. Even as he stirred, he felt a surge of gratitude for this woman who had spent her entire morning helping him to feel welcome and needed.
At twelve-fifteen, just as they were about to sit down to eat, there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Weasley disappeared to answer it, and returned at once with a tall, very old wizard in midnight blue robes. His white beard extended down past his waist, and perfectly matched his long, white hair. Harry was immediately reminded of the illustration of Merlin in his English Literature textbook. The wizard looked at Harry over his half-moon spectacles with startlingly blue eyes, and the corners of his beard twitched upward as he smiled.
"Good afternoon, Harry," said the man. "I am Professor Dumbledore."
Harry nodded. "I figured you were," he said, still staring at the professor.
"Have a seat, Albus," Mrs. Weasley invited. "Have you eaten?"
"No, Molly, I haven't. And I'm not ashamed to say that I had rather hoped to arrive in time for one of your delicious meals," Dumbledore said with a wink. Mrs. Weasley blushed as she began dishing out the stew.
"Sir," Harry said, not wanting to come across as rude, "can you tell me what's been happening? I mean, do you know why my memory's gone and everything?"
The old man just smiled sadly.
"What?" Harry asked, suddenly concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No, Harry, no," said Dumbledore lightly. "I was merely thinking of the last time the two of us had a one-on-one chat. But to answer your question, I am here to try to determine the cause of your disappearance and memory-loss."
Dumbledore took a bite of stew. "Until you contacted your friend, Ronald Weasley, a few weeks ago, no one in the Wizarding world had heard from you since you left Hogwarts last June. Since that time, a number of witches and wizards - both those who care about you and those who want to see you harmed - have been scouring the country in search of the boy named Harry Potter. You may not realize it, Harry, but you were hidden extremely well."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't able to tell Ron where I was, but somehow that rat - Scabbers I think he was called - managed to find me."
Dumbledore's bushy white eyebrows rose as the wrinkles in his forehead deepened. "I see..." he said slowly. "Perhaps it would be best if you told me your story first. Afterward, we can decide where to go from there."
Agreeing with the professor's suggestion, Harry recounted his experiences at St. Brutus's, once again being careful to leave out any mentions of Tyler Stevens. He was also careful not to mention using magic without a wand, as he wanted to avoid any possible trouble that might cause. Throughout the entire story, Dumbledore watched him intently, his blue eyes seeming to look right through Harry, giving him the uncomfortable feeling that the ancient wizard knew exactly when something was being left out.
Finally, when the meal and the story were finished, Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "It appears that Arthur's assessment is most likely correct: you have almost certainly been subjected to a Memory Charm. As he told you, this particular Memory Charm is fairly weak, and was definitely not performed by a professional Obliviator. However, before we can set about reversing it, we must find the identity of the person who cast it."
"Why's that, sir?" Harry asked. "Can't you just fix my memory, and then I'll be able to remember who did it?"
Dumbledore smiled at the na�vet� of the question. "If only it were that simple," he said. "However, a Memory Charm can only be safely reversed by the wand that cast it in the first place. I'm afraid that, until we locate the wand that took your memory, it will not return - at least, not in any way other than occasional dreams or flashes of remembrance.
"Of equal concern, however, is the fact that you are unable to reveal where you have been staying for all of this time. This seems to point to the Fidelius Charm, which would also explain why we were unable to locate you for so long, but there are a few inconsistencies. You see, the Fidelius Charm is a complicated bit of magic which conceals a secret inside a single living soul. This person to whom the secret is entrusted is referred to, appropriately, as the Secret Keeper. From the time the charm is cast until it is removed by the one who cast it, the only way to learn the secret is to be told by the Secret Keeper."
Harry listened with rapt attention, drinking in the information that he was being handed. Finally, he was going to get some answers about what had happened to him.
"Knowing that this is the case," Dumbledore continued, "it seems logical to assume that your teachers and schoolmates at the school you have been attending would have needed to learn your whereabouts from the Secret Keeper. While possible, this seems extremely unlikely, and it fails to answer the second inconsistency: How were Peter Pettigrew - the wizard you referred to as Scabbers - and his companions able to find you?"
"Well, that's obvious, isn't it?" asked Harry. "This Secret Keeper person must have told them where to find me."
"I don't think so, Harry," Dumbledore responded. "If your Secret Keeper was going to turn you over to the likes of them, he wouldn't have waited all this time to do so. No, there must be some other explanation."
"But don't you at least have a theory, Albus?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
"Of course I do, Molly. I believe that whoever cast the Fidelius Charm on Harry - probably the same person who Memory-Charmed him - was only seeking to hide him from the Magical community. This, coupled with the fact that this particular witch or wizard does not seem to be particularly proficient at complicated Charms, would have left a sort of loophole in the spell's protection. So long as Harry was in his hiding place, no witch or wizard could find him, except for those who were told by the Secret Keeper; however, Muggles would have no trouble finding or interacting with him."
"But what about Scabbers - Peter what's-his-name, I mean? How did he find me if the Secret Keeper didn't tell him?" Harry asked.
"Please remember, Harry, that this is only a theory," Dumbledore reminded him. "The case of Peter Pettigrew was somewhat unique, I believe, because he had the ability to transform into a rat. You see, although your whereabouts were concealed from magical beings, Scabbers - or Wormtail, as he was also called - was an ordinary rat. As such, he was able to locate you, but he could not reveal your location to any of his comrades. That, I believe, is why he went into the school alone, leaving the others outside where they would be able to see you. As an underage wizard with no wand and no memory of your magical training, they doubtless believed you would be an easy target." He sighed. "It appears that some people never learn."
Harry wasn't quite sure what the professor meant by that last statement, but that wasn't what concerned him at the moment. "So what you're saying is that somebody erased my memory and then tried to hide me away from the Magical world? Who would go to all that trouble on my account? I'm only sixteen years old; surely I can't have that many enemies."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley both stifled snorts. "When your memory returns, Harry, you too will see the humor in that statement," said Dumbledore.
"You mean- Do I really have that many enemies?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, you do," said the old professor. "The list grows every day, as does the list of those friendly to you. For now, though, it's best not to dwell on that. The first order of business should be restoring your memory, but something about that Fidelius Charm is still troubling me. You see, in order for you to be hidden by the Fidelius Charm, you would have had to give your permission - something I find very unlikely in this circumstance."
Mrs. Weasley let out a harsh laugh. "You always do try to make them grow up too quickly, Albus," she said. "Surely Harry wouldn't be able to make that sort of decision for himself. He's not even of age."
Dumbledore turned sharply to look at her. "Of course," he whispered. "I should have seen it before: permission for such a spell could not have come from Harry; it would have to come from-" he stopped abruptly.
"His legal guardian," Mrs. Weasley finished in a tense whisper that almost qualified as a growl.
Harry felt his jaw clench, and he could have sworn that Dumbledore's did the same.