Madam Pomfrey was banishing them left and right, and then replacing them with fresh ones. Her lips were pursed, but she really couldn't blame the child for his reaction. No, she blamed the Headmaster for his heavy-handedness.
"Harry, would you like me to tell you a little bit about yourself? It might bring back some memories. Well, that is if Madam Pomfrey thinks it's okay," she said questioningly as she turned to the nurse.
"I don't see a problem with that," the mediwitch stated, looking at the irate teen as she finished making up the last bed.
"Are you an expert at memory loss?" Harry asked as his eyes narrowed. From his reading there was little that could be done, but Hermione's suggestion might have merit. Still, he didn't want anyone point their tricorder at him.
"I am well versed in healing, thank you very much, and I can tell you little is known about amnesia. There are different theories on how to treat it, but the most common one is to surround the patient with the familiar. Therefore, Miss Granger telling you about your time here should not be detrimental," she huffed, hating the fact that he questioned her professionalism.
"Right," was all he said.
"I can tell you some things as well," the old man offered as an olive branch, desperate to see something besides loathing in the boy's eyes.
"You stay the fuck away from me, you old bastard," Harry growled, pointing a finger in his direction, but not looking him in the eye.
"Language," came the reprimand of the three females, which caused Harry to give them the bird.
"Very well," Dumbledore sighed, and then turned to the other adults in the room. "We should relocate to my office to discuss this situation," he said with a wave of his hand towards the door.
"Yes, that is perhaps for the best," McGonagall agreed, as usual. She wanted to know what was going on with the boy, but he didn't seem to like any of the adults in the room. It broke her heart a bit that he didn't trust her like he did before.
"I will have a full report on what is happening. We do not know where he has been, or what he has been doing for the last week. How do we know he has not done something nefarious to make him more powerful? Just look at this room and that dome, it is evidence enough that he is stronger than he was when he left," Barty stated, folding his arms and not budging. Thought, Ludo seemed happy about that turn of events.
"Come now, Bartemius, we can take this discussion elsewhere. Moreover, I saw his memories, before he removed my presences," argued Albus as he shooed the other adults, bar Poppy, out of the ward. "I can confirm that the child has been living as a vagabond for the last week. He merely is doing accidental magic in a form of protection. He…" and the voice trailed off as they left the infirmary.
"So, tell me about myself," Harry said with a 'go ahead' wave of his hand as he sat on the nearest bed.
"I'll just leave you two to it," Pomfrey said as she hustled to her office. She would need to order more supplies after this.
Once the adults left the ward dropped, and Hermione moved closer. "Well, I don't know much about your childhood only that you don't like your aunt or her family. You never really discussed them. I know you were placed there for protection against the Death Eaters, who may want to kill you for vanquishing their master, who is still out there in wraith form, and also wants you dead," she said all in one breath.
"So there really are people trying to off me," Harry said with a thoughtful look on his face as he tried to think of where he dropped his 'wand'. He could probably use it right about now. All he would have to do is find someone to show him how. He looked at the girl in front of him and wondered if she would be a good candidate, she was knowledgeable, but she came off as bossy.
"Yes, which is one of the reasons you should stay here," she pointed out.
"Right, still not sold on that, but tell me more about us and how we met," he offered as he nestled back into the pillows he piled up on the headboard. He was tired and needed information if someone was looking to do him in. He'd settle here for a moment and then leave if he had to.
"Well, we met on the train, but we didn't really like one another until Halloween our first year, when you saved me from the troll, with our other friend, Ronald Weasley," she said as she settled at the foot of the bed.
"Troll?" he questioned with a great deal of doubt in his voice. In his mind he pulled up a picture of a large green man-shaped being. Like the one's in the story 'Billy Goat Gruff'. He really hoped those weren't real.
"Oh yes, I was ever so scared, and you were so brave," she said with a bit of fear and a lot of admiration. "I was in the girls' bathroom, crying because Ron said some horrible things about me, when…" she went on to tell him all about his heroic fight against the large monster, and then proceeded to tell him about the next few years.
His face went through a myriad of emotions, the biggest one was skepticism. 'How could all this be real, and no one know about it? If there were large monsters running about, it'd be on the telly,' he continued to think.
Meanwhile in the Headmaster's office
"I have heard what you said, but how do you know it the truth?" demanded Crouch Sr., once everyone got seated. He had listened to the Headmaster ramble the whole way here, but still didn't believe a word of it. The boy was just trying to get out of the tournament.
"I went into his mind, Bartemius, and I can tell you that the boy is suffering from amnesia. It is unlike anything I have ever seen. I looked as far as I could and he only remembers this last week. His first memory was hiding in an alley; cold, alone and scared. He has no recollection of how he got to London, only a vague feeling of fear," Albus said as he stroked his beard in apprehension.
This would not be good, if there was no way to return the boy's memories then he would not remember the joys he felt being away from his family. He would not look onto Albus with admiration or listen to him when he was told his fate. It was a disaster; however, the Headmaster was confident that he could turn this around to be benefit of all.
"There is nothing? Nothing at all?" McGonagall asked, her face lined with worry. The poor boy had suffered enough, couldn't he go one year without danger? So far, this year was out, but perhaps the next?
That is if he stayed, which if he didn't remember what he had learned over the years could be difficult. He would have to start from the beginning, and that might prove too much for the poor lad. Harry had never been studious.
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