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~ Parseltongue ~ Thoughts :: mental conversations :: Letters, etc.

July 2nd, #4 Privet Drive
Harry felt a jolt as if he had been falling from a great height and his feet had suddenly hit solid ground, waking him abruptly. Fumbling for his glasses, he rubbed at his scar reflexively and was pleasantly and warily surprised to find that it only ached a little instead of burning with pain like he would have expected from an encounter with Voldemort.
"Half past three...this is ridiculous," he muttered and shuffled over to his rickety desk to pen a quick note to Hermione about his dream. It was odd enough to think that Voldemort might have actually given him some useful information. An attempt to understand the infinite number of reasons why the Dark Lord might have done so was giving him a headache, so he decided it might be best to ignore that line of thought until such time as it became an issue. Placing the letter with the pile he had left on his desk for Dobby to deliver the next morning, he went back to his bed, thoughts calmer now that he had arranged to discuss the dream with someone.
"Maybe this time I'll actually get some sleep..."

July 2nd, The Burrow
Hermione opened her letters from Harry with a pleased smile. The first was simply an expression of appreciation for her letter, and a promise to write more often. She hadn't expected any more than that - it was only the first full day of vacation, after all. Opening the second letter, she paled a little and continued reading, a glimmer of excitement growing to fill her gaze as the thrill of a puzzle fuelled her enthusiasm.

'Mione,
I had the strangest dream last night. I don't think it had anything to do with a plan or an attack. If it did, I can't figure out how. It was about the ministry, but I felt like I was watching it in a Pensive. It was strange to be dragged along, watching myself yet held apart from feeling any of the emotions that I know I were choking me to death by the time the fighting really got started. Once it got to where Voldemort possessed me in the atrium, I was in a room alone with him.
It was such a beautiful place, 'Mione. I would show it to you if I could. The walls were dark green and blue stone and all of the trim stuff was silver. It would have been perfect if it weren't for all the discoloured patches on the walls and windows and the chains on the doors. Only one door was open a little, and I think that's the one that leads to Voldemort. I really think this room is in my head.
Voldemort told me that those patches and chains were spells to hide memories and suppressors on my abilities. The beautiful pool of light in the floor drew me...I just wanted to sink into it and relax for once, but I couldn't because too much of it was bricked over. The opening was too small.
Dobby is going to pick up some books for me, so I'll be looking into the subject myself, but I would really appreciate your help with this. Could you talk to the rest of the group about looking into this as well? I am curious if Voldemort told me the truth, or if this is just another elaborate trick. If he is telling me the truth, then I'll worry about what that means when it becomes an issue. I figure, between the six of us, we might dig up some ideas on this, and maybe even get some ideas for the DA, too.
Send Dobby if you have questions or need me for something. Happy Hunting.
Harry

Reading the letter through twice more, Hermione shook her head and chewed on her lower lip while she considered her plan of action.
"Oh, Harry, what have you gotten yourself into now?" Making plans for a visit to Flourish & Botts and possibly even the wizarding library in London, she contemplated how to convince Mrs. Weasley to allow a trip to Diagon Alley.
"Is the room actually in his head or is it a figment created by Voldemort? Ron!!"
"What?! I'm right here!"
"Oh, I thought you were upstairs. When do you go to the Healer again?"
Amused by his friend's distracted air and knowing it could only mean she was working on a problem, Ron grinned tolerantly.
"Tomorrow. Why?"
"Read this. I need you to ask your Mind Healer about the room and stuff so we can find out if it's normal for wizards to have a room like that in their heads, or if this is just another slimy trick of Voldemort's."
Scanning through, Ron frowned and re-read it to make sure he had the gist of it. He shuddered at the mention of the door that led to Voldemort's mind. That bothered him more than the idea of talking to the Dark Lord.
"Bloody Hell, Hermione! Snake face just won't ease up on Harry, will he." Sighing his exasperation, he nodded agreeably. "I'm sorry you're missing the trip to Greece with your Parents, but I'm sure glad they let you spend the summer here with us. When things like this happen to Harry, you're usually the one to figure out what's causing it."
Hermione blushed lightly and shrugged as if to say it wasn't anything important.
"I just told Mom and Dad the truth. I'm 16 and I want to enjoy a summer with my friends. Telling them about how badly off Harry was, what with losing Sirius and all, just softened them up about it even more. So, you'll talk to your Healer for me?"
"Yeah, I'll ask Healer Monroe, make him feel useful for once, I guess. He still can't figure out what exactly that brain thingy was trying to do." The ginger-haired boy shivered.
"Is it always the same imagery, or does it change?"
Stroking the scars on one of Ron's forearms, Hermione couldn't help but admire the scroll and knot work-like patterns the creature's tentacles had left behind. The shiny pink scars were slowly darkening to a café au lait shade of brown, and the beauty of their appearance belied the agony that Ron had suffered while wrapped up in the creatures grip.
"Oh, no...what I see changes often. It's like a chess game and knowing so many moves ahead, but this isn't chess. These things, they don't perceive things like we do; they see infinite possibilities branching from every choice. Thank Merlin what that thing shoved in my head isn't like that, not exactly. It's bad enough, though. My head still hurts so bad sometimes, when there's too many options and it's like my head can't hold them all..." Ron shuddered and rubbed his arms vigorously. "Um, try talking to Bill and Charlie about the room thingy, maybe Neville, too. His Gran may have told him some old pureblood traditions or history that Dad wouldn't have shared with us younger kids. Hell, try Luna. I never know what's going on in her head."
"Thanks, Ron." Hugging her friend fiercely, Hermione smiled and kissed him on the cheek just to see him blush. "I'll send them a copy with Dobby. Tomorrow I'll try to get out to Diagon Alley so I can look for any books that might be helpful. Maybe Bill or Charlie will go with me..."
"Have fun." Ron grinned despite his red ears and pink cheeks. "Better you than me."

July 2nd, Meeting of the Werewolf Tribes, A remote area in Ireland, 3rd day of the Full Moon
Opening the door to the small cabin he was staying in, Remus looked around the vicinity immediately outside and growled under his breath. His amber eyes took in the movements of his fellow werewolves with an air of critical assessment until they landed on an older, grizzled man dressed in navy blue robes. Smiling warmly, he straightened his own richly made dark blue robes and strode out to meet the other man.
"Gregor, how are you this evening?"
"No worse for wear, Remus. You look angry at the world today. What's wrong?" Pale blue eyes studied the man who walked so proudly at his side and saw a tiredness that did not stem from the previous night's transformation.
"Dumbledore," Remus growled. He walked at the older werewolf's side, jaw set in a clear expression of disgust and more than a little sadness. "I received an owl from him just after dawn."
"Did he have any success with the new legislation?"
"No." Looking down at the Head of the werewolf Council, Remus shook his head. "Why does he keep sending me out here, Gregor? I tire of the charade I am forced to play to keep my fellow wizards from fearing me."
"It allows you to have Dumbledore's ear, does it not, Brother? He carries your suggestions for legislation before the Wizgamot, does he not?" The blue eyed werewolf sighed. "You are one of the strongest voices on the Council and one of the most socially connected; it is not well for you to be so disheartened about our chances." Entering the clearing that had been set aside for the use of the Council, Gregor gestured for Remus to take a seat across from him, and then seated himself, steepled fingers tapping his chin thoughtfully.
"Are you truly that disillusioned by recent events?"
Settling himself with an almost regal grace, Remus wrapped his robes around himself and sighed expansively. His amber eyes searched his elder's while he formulated a reply. This was not an easy topic for him anymore, not with the way his Wolf argued with his human side over things he had always taken for granted.
"Disillusioned," he mused, a growl rumbling in his chest once more. "Albus keeps sending me out into the wilds in a desperate bid for the support of the wizarding werewolves. For all his wisdom, he has never actually looked at our society and realized that we are far more than a few straggling packs and aimless loners. Like most wizards, it never occurs to him that there may be other werewolves beyond the paltry numbers the Ministry is aware of - they ignore our muggle brothers and sisters and that is a major advantage for our tribes. Once we transform, there is no magic...we are all mostly equal when there is only teeth and claws and muscle and instinct to define us." He threw a feral smile at his companion.
"Remus..." Gregor growled quietly, eyes full of laughter. "You're on that soap box again."
"Bear with me, Gregor. There is a point to my rambling. I promise." Straightening his robes, Remus shifted to throw one leg over the arm of his chair in a pose of decadent relaxation.
"Every new restrictive law is met with weak, limp-wristed attempts to improve our living conditions on the Isle. I have not had the opportunity to review Albus' voting history, but I know in my gut he is not using his prestige to gain votes in our favour. If I am correct, then every piece of legislation is doomed to die on the Wizgamot floor before it even comes to a vote. If I am correct, then he is playing us for fools." He snarled almost silently, his inner Wolf demanding justice for what IT knew to be nothing more than lies and platitudes doled out by a condescending and manipulative old man. Despite his intense, deeply entrenched desire to believe otherwise, Remus found himself less and less inclined to trust Dumbledore's word.
"I should bite him some full moon...see how well he manages without Wolfsbane..."
Eyes wide, shoulders shaking with laughter, Gregor snorted his amusement before giving it full reign, his belly laughs drawing curious gazes from the other Council members and their attendant pack members.
"Such violence, brother-wolf. One could easily forget your mild, bookish nature if you keep making statements like that."
"I'm not so sure that that would be a bad thing anymore..."
Head cocked to one side, curiosity evident in his wolfishly toothy grin, Gregor gestured for Remus to speak his mind. He was not to be disappointed, though the arrival of the rest of the Council did delay the gratification of his request.
"Are you encouraging him again, Gregor? I would have thought you'd give up trying to corrupt him from his oh so trusting ways by now." A small, petite young woman with dark hair and pale skin wandered into the circle and took a seat near the two men. "Though I surely never would have expected to hear the esteemed Remus Lupin speaking ill of the Great Lord of the Light. Threatening to bite someone with malicious intent, hmm? Why Remus, I'm delighted with your progress!" She laughed, her delight ringing through the clearing like crystal bell tones.
"Oh, come now, Sophie," Gregor chastised playfully. "Be polite to your Brother. You two are the youngest on this Council, and youth makes for strong, often fickle opinions. You are a perfect example of just how fickle."
Sniggering as the Celtic woman frowned petulantly, Remus settled even more deeply into his deceptively lazy, boneless sprawl.
"Indeed, Sister. Have you ever made up your mind about anything other than what to hunt?"
"Why you insolent cub! How dare you!" Sophie huffed, sapphire blue eyes darkening towards black as her irritation spiked towards anger. "You can be a real bastard sometimes, Remus."
"Sophie...I apologize." Remus gave the woman a sour look, the expression belying his laid back appearance. "I shouldn't have taken my pique out on you. I'm just so...angry about the situation back on the Isle..."
"I suppose I can't blame you for that," Sophie admitted grudgingly. "We have it so much better here in Ireland. Hell, even Germany is better to our People than Britain could ever dream of being."
Several others took their seats, completing the Council of twelve elders and pack leaders. Gregor looked to each in turn before opening the floor for news and informative reporting.
"Does anyone have anything fresh or new to share?"
"The Shadow Spire Tribe of Romania was approached by emissaries of the Dark Lord not more than a moon ago," a powerfully built, swarthy brunette muttered, his voice a deep, raspy growl that seemed to vibrate in the air. "They were also inquiring about any other packs or individuals that might consider joining their ranks. Wanted vampires, too, the crazy bastards. We ...respectfully declined the offer and sent the emissaries to visit with The Count."
"The Count?" Remus inquired, one eyebrow arched.
"Yes. The mountain that rises from the lands of my Tribe is home to a very old vampire. He's known as the Count, but we Wolves, we know him as Vladislaus."
Filing that tidbit of information away for future reference, Remus nodded his appreciation for the explanation.
"He must be desperate if he's going as far as Romania..."
"I think we all can agree that the mad man is desperate if he's courting the vampire clans," Gregor muttered. "Has anyone else been openly approached?" A few reported individual defections and emissaries, but few were ready to make a decision and had just as bluntly told the wizards to come back with a better offer.
"Fine. Now, Remus. Back to our previous discussion. I wish to hear your thoughts on this dark lord and the situation on The Isle."
Remus nodded, his posture shifting to reflect his disquiet and mounting aggression in regards to the subject matter.
"Dumbledore has failed us yet again. The most recent legislation for safe houses and readily available Wolfsbane potion has been denied at the highest levels of the Wizgamot. The British Ministry is tightening its Registration Acts and all unregistered lycanthropes are being sent to Azkaban to await processing. Beyond the political arena, or perhaps in the heart of it, this is what it all boils down to." Remus looked around the circle of gathered Tribe Leaders and council Elders, his amber eyes flashing passionately.
"The Dark Lord offers us nothing. He will not suffer us to live once we have won his war with our blood. We are merely tools to be used and discarded. The Ministry and Dumbledore are each no better than the other. They see our usefulness in the battle itself, but not our humanity and our right to be a part of magical society. We need another option besides these hypocritical old men or vanishing into the forests and muggle cities."
"What of your Cub, The-Boy-Who-Lived?" Sophie met Remus' gaze intently, dark blue eyes seeking answers. "What says he?"
"Yes, Remus. What is the Chosen Child's stand on the war and more importantly so, the rights of the Tribes and our magical brethren?" Gregor eyed his amber eyed companion expectantly.
"I am often kept from his side, so I cannot say immediately." Remus growled unhappily. "I will have to spend some time with him to acquaint myself with his current views. Once I find out exactly what his views are, I will return to speak my answer for the Council. Hopefully I will be able to do so by the next Moon. He will be 16 then."
"Celebrate your Cub's Coming of Age. It only happens once per lifetime," Gregor stated. "Come to us with word of the Chosen Child in two moons time. Now, it is time for the Gathering," Gregor stated and stood. "We go to our Mother Moon's calling; we dance to no tune but her own silver song."
"It will be as you say, Gregor." Remus turned his face up to the moon with a soft whine of longing, amber eyes flaring with an eerie light as the pregnant sphere rose high enough to bathe them in its cool, silver light.
"Now, brothers and sisters...let us shed these human forms and run to our Mother." Shrugging out of his robes, he howled joyfully as the call of the moon coaxed the much larger Silver Wolf from the cage of his slender body.

July 3rd, St. Mungo's, Office of Master Mind Healer Octavius Monroe
Fidgeting a bit, Ron cleared his throat and eyed Healer Monroe through his hair. He really didn't feel like talking about his experience in the Department of Mysteries and the nearly prophetic timeline the brain creature had left in his head, so he figured he might as well do the Gryffindor thing and just jump in with what he really wanted to discuss.
"Is it, uh, normal to have a room in your head that has a pool of light in the floor?" He restrained the urge to grin when the Healer's head came up abruptly, eyes widening with surprise. Yes! He pumped a mental fist in the air. I got him with that one. About damn time I managed to surprise him, instead of the other way around. "A room with doors and passages and stuff?"
"That is fairly normal, actually. It requires a good deal of meditative study for most people to encounter such an occurrence, but once someone manages to access their magical core on the conscious level, that is the way it is most commonly described. What is this metaphorical room like for you?"
"Uh, green, blue and silver walls...what does it mean if the pool is bricked up or something like that?" Ron shifted nervously as he tried to recall the details of what Harry had written. It wouldn't do to forget something important. Hermione would kill him.
"That could very likely represent a block placed on your magic," the Healer replied, sharp gaze taking in his patient's tell tale signs of nervousness. "How heavily blocked up is it?"
"Too small to climb in...maybe open enough to put a hand in or something," Ron replied off the top of his head. Harry's written tone had been so mournful on that point, so it must have been severely blocked.
"Sweet Merlin," Octavius muttered. The average wizard would scarcely be able to perform even the most basic of magical exercises if they were that heavily restricted. This did not sound good and he intended to get to the bottom of it. He could not tolerate the thought of a child being mistreated though deliberate mismanagement of magical blocks and other less savoury methods of keeping them malleable.
"Is there anything else...wrong in the room?"
"Um, yeah. There are discoloured patched on the walls and covering doors and stuff. And some of the doors have chains holding them shut..."
"Windows and other openings like doors tend to lead to memories and gifts, magical abilities if you will. To have them blocked in such a way makes me inclined to think of memory and heritage suppression charms."
"Magical gifts?"
"Many magical families, especially the older ones have special things they are very good at, talents and abilities that are known to belong to that bloodline."
"Oh, kind of like how my brother Bill can feel wards and curses really easily and Charlie has a way with dragons?" Ron grinned his delight over this discovery. "Maybe even my ability at chess?"
"You are particularly gifted at strategy. It may very well be a Gift," Octavius agreed. "The same applies to your brothers."
"Things like Parseltongue, too, huh?" Ron's eyes widened when Healer Monroe grinned at him and sat forward with an intently focused expression.
"Damn my mouth..." He grumbled quietly.
"Yes, Parseltongue is a very rare and selective Blood Trait and only one bloodline is known to manifest it reliably," Octavius murmured. "Since there are only two currently known Parseltongues, and I sincerely doubt you are friends with You-Know-Who, I feel it safe to guess that you must be poking around for Mr. Potter. I understand if you feel that you cannot tell me what led you to this discovery, but please attempt to get him some assistance if it is indeed Mr. Potter that has been wronged in this way."
Ron sighed and searched the man's gaze intently, something inside telling him the best move would be to trust him.
"I can't go into details without getting his permission, Healer Monroe. I just can't do that to him, but I'll tell you what I can. Harry's bloody amazing at getting out of scrapes no one else would stand a chance of surviving, so don't worry so much." Ron shrugged, ears turning pink at the knowing look on the healer's face. "Someone told him....he was told the patches and chains were to hide memories, bind his magic and other things like that."
Octavius nodded solemnly.
"Your friend is an amazing wizard if half of what the Prophet and Quibbler have to say is even remotely based on fact, and I am not referring to the articles that question his sanity. Now, that list of restrictions and the way you have described everything sounds consistent with what I know of this kind of magical residue. I can't figure why someone would want to obliviate him though. It can be quite damaging to young minds, especially."
"Another friend of mine was Obliviated when he was really young. Is there anything you can do to help him?"
"How young?"
"Less than a year and a half when it happened," Ron muttered, just the mention of Neville's problems enough to upset him.
Aware of only one child the boy could be speaking of, the Healer made a decision and decided to act on it. If he couldn't help the Potter boy, he would help the Longbottom's son.
"Please feel free to bring your friend with you to one of your sessions. I will do everything I can to help him." He let out a slow, deep breath.
"Now, if you wish to locate your magical core and begin developing your own inner control, try meditation. I am not implying that it is easy to do so, but the meditation would help you with your current ordeal and access to your core would greatly improve your magical ability."
"Thank you, Healer Monroe. I guess I'll see you Monday, then." Ron rose to leave.
"You are quite welcome, Mr. Weasley. Now, you are healing, but I'd like to continue trying to pin down the exact nature of what the creature has done to your thought processes. Are you amenable to this?"
"Yes, sir. It would help to understand more of what's going on in there."
"Then I will see you next week. Good day, Mr. Weasley." Octavius smiled a little as the red head left his office. He might not personally be up to fighting on the front lines, but he would make the most of this opportunity to aid the ones who clearly would be in the thick of things.

July 3rd, The Burrow
"Memory charms? More than one?" Hermione sounded as appalled as the rest of the 'Ministry Crew' looked and looked like she might want to be ill. "Magical suppression? That's just...that's...evil! Why would someone do that to Harry?"
"More, well, at least equally important, is WHO did this to Harry." Neville looked around at his friends. "Who is trying to control Harry and why are they doing it?"
"What if Harry isn't the only one?" Ginny voiced the question that had been eating at her since she first saw a copy of Harry's letter. She studied her friends and sibling intently, brown eyes flashing with anger at the thought of someone invading their minds and lives in such a way.
"Would we even know if we had been Obliviated? Is there a way for us to know?"
"Well, Healer Monroe said it was okay to bring 'my friend' to my next appointment," stated Ron as he reached out to lightly thump Neville on the back of the head.
"Seriously Nev, I didn't tell him who I was talking about and he was still mad as hell that someone would do that to a child. He wants to help and if he can fix even part of what that spell did, I would be so happy for you."
Blushing lightly under the attention that Ron's statement had focused on him, Neville sighed.
"I need to try, I guess. We all need to know if our memories have been altered."
"Have you written to Harry about all of this yet?" asked Luna, her eyes coming into sharp focus for a moment before softening into her usual dreamy appearance. "He's going to blow up spectacularly. I really wish I could be there to see it..."
"Oh yeah, I really wish I could see him blow his top over this one. It would have to be brilliant!" Ginny giggled wickedly.
"He'll be 16 soon," mused Luna, her comment seeming to come out of the blue. "Young Harry is going to Awaken."
"Awaken?" Hermione frowned; she wasn't certain she understood what Luna meant.
"Uh, high powered magical maturity," Ron explained. "It's not something that happens very often."
"Mr. Harry 'I-Just-Want-To-Be-Normal' Potter is going to LOVE that," Neville drawled in a remarkably good imitation of Draco Malfoy, causing the others to laugh uproariously. "Gran told me Professor Dumbledore went through an Awakening and it's safe to guess that You-Know-Who did as well."
"I guess that's another thing I'll have to look into once I can get someone to take me to Diagon Alley. I really need to do some research and magic keeps changing the rules..." Hermione sighed and made a note of the afore mentioned subject. "You really think Harry is as powerful as someone like Professor Dumbledore?"
"Hmm, let me think," Neville mused quietly. "He cast a fully corporeal Patronus that was intense enough to drive off 100 dementors at the age of 13. He's faced and defeated You-Know Who, or at least survived the encounter with minimal injury, four or five times now. Yeah, I think he's got the potential to blow every body's socks off."

July 3rd, #4 Privet Drive
"Who's on duty today, Dobby?" Harry was currently looking out his window and no one was in sight so he figured they had to be wearing an invisibility cloak or using a disillusionment charm. "Being here is driving me crazy. I need to get out and stretch my legs."
"It's 'Dungus Dirty Man, Master Harry." Dobby muttered to himself, nose wrinkled at the thought of having the drunken thief any where near his master. "Hims wouldn't know if yous was dancing on hims head."
Coughing and laughing at the image his little friend's words generated before his mind's eye, the green eyed wizard groaned.
"You are too right, Dobby. I'm going to see if anyone is even paying attention these days and test how far I can get before an Order member tries to bring me back 'because it isn't safe'."
"Dobby can takes you where you wants to go, Master Harry."
"Not this time. I need to know if I can just up and walk out. I'll be taking the Knight Bus, so I won't be completely exposed to attack and Diagon alley should be fairly safe as long as I'm careful."
"Yous just be careful and calls for Dobby if yous needs him."
"I will. I promise." Patting his pocket to assure himself that his wand was safely in place, Harry retrieved his invisibility cloak and wrapped himself in its silky folds.
"Merlin, I love having this cloak."
Pulling his wand from his pocket, Harry carefully slipped out of the house and headed for the park. He was torn between being angry over Albus' choice of guards and elated that having Mundungus around made this jaunt so much easier to accomplish. Surely, if he was so bloody important, he would warrant a guard of at least auror quality. He made it a block from the house before the hair on the back of his neck stood up, prompting him to stick his wand out to summon the Knight Bus far sooner than he'd planned. The lurid purple bus appeared with a BANG and he leapt aboard as soon as the doors sprung open.
"Leaky Cauldron. QUICK!" Harry hissed out his request, eyes widening as he saw the reflected red light of a stunner coming at him in the glass beside the driver. Ducking down, he felt the crackle of magic as it passed harmlessly over his head.
"Keep the change." Thrusting two galleons into Stan's hand, he stayed low and got to a bed as the bus lurched away.

Surprised to see Harry walking under his invisibility cloak even though Albus had assured him the distraught boy was likely to leave his house in a grieving fit of rebellion, Kingsley Shacklebolt was a little slow to react. Seeing the boy getting onto the Knight Bus, he shot off a stunner and cursed at the teens reflexes. He trusted Albus to know how to handle The-Boy-Who-Lived and apparated to Hogwarts to find out where the uncooperative child might have gone.

Noting the presence of an Order member at the gates, Albus made his way down to the entry hall to meet the tall black Auror.
"What has occurred, Kingsley? Why have you left your post?"
"He did just what you said he would, Albus. He snuck out using that blasted cloak and took the Knight Bus. I tried to stun him, but he's quick as a snake when it comes to dodging spells. I don't know his habits well enough to look for him. Where would he have gone?"
"He has most likely gone to The Burrow or to Diagon Alley, my boy. Go check the Burrow's wards. They are set to record the magical signature of everyone who passes through them, so you won't have to upset Molly with the news that Harry is out wandering on his own. If he has not gone there, then he will be at the alley. It is not safe for him to be out in public, Kingsley. Use whatever means necessary to get him home and make sure he stays there. Voldemort will stop at nothing to capture or kill him." Albus patted the Auror on the shoulder and twinkled at him in a grandfatherly way.
"He will thank you for your diligence and devotion to his safety once he has recovered his senses and taken the time to completely grieve for his Godfather. Now, go get him, Kingsley. There is no time to waste."
Visibly relieved, Kingsley nodded and headed back to the apparition point just outside the gates of Hogwarts. He hadn't wanted to be the one to admit to Molly that they had 'lost' Harry Potter.

Fuming at the gall of the boy, Albus stalked back into the castle, blue eyes icy as he fought to control his temper.
"How dare he disobey me! He knows it's simply not safe for him to be out on his own." Planning a bit of behavioural readjustment for when he brought the boy to Grimmauld Place in early August soothed his ire quite nicely.
"He really is overdue an attitude adjustment anyway. He's not playing his part."

July 3rd, Back at #4 Privet Drive
Harry woke up on his lumpy excuse for a bed and frowned. When had he gone to bed? The last he recalled was reading through some of his old textbooks right after he had arrived, and it was far too early to be the same day, if he was judging the sun correctly. A light touch on his arm made him leap away with a sharply startled 'Eeep!', the sound escaping before he could contain it. Panting, he looked down at Dobby and frowned.
"Dobby? Why are you here?"
"Oh, Master Harry Potter, sir! Dobby was knowing something was wrong but hims couldn't get to yous. Then yous walked back in the front door without yous cloak on. Have you lost yous invisibility cloak, Master Harry?"
"Master?" A deeply comforting bond warmed him when he thought this, and he knew something was wrong with him. Frowning hard, eyes flaring with an eerie green light, Harry struggled to remember exactly why it felt right for Dobby to call him 'master'.
"You're my elf? You didn't want to be free any more?"
"Yes Master Harry. Yous bonded with Dobby yesterday. You is making Dobby the happiest house elf. Is you not remembering more than yous was not remembering before?"
"More?" The concept of not remembering things sent a fearful twinge through him and he broke out in a sweat. "You said I left with my cloak, but I didn't have it when I came back?" Dobby nodded and he dropped down to check under the loose floor board. His hands found only his photo album and the marauder's map. Shifting over to his trunk, he rooted through it with almost frantic energy until he had to accept the conclusion that his cloak wasn't all that was missing. He patted his pockets to check for his wand and, when he didn't feel its reassuring warmth, a burst of rage burned through him with frightening intensity. His head cleared abruptly.
"Where is my wand? It was in my pocket the last I remember..."
"You was taking it with yous, Master Harry." Dobby moaned and started to wring his ears as his distress became more than he could tolerate without action of some kind. "Bad wizards is making Master Harry forget again..."
Letting out a howl of unfettered rage, the young wizard felt something new and fragile shatter inside his mind. Face wet with tears, features twisted into a snarl, he remembered the attack as he boarded the Knight Bus, remembered arriving at the Leaky Cauldron and waving at Tom as he made his way towards the Alley.
"I walked up to tap the bricks and that's it. Who ever tried to stun me earlier must have gotten me then. They took my cloak and my wand...I didn't have them when I walked in the house...Who was near the property when I walked back in?"
"No wizards I could sense, Master Harry." Dobby's ears drooped sadly even as anger filled his own large eyes. "'Dungus Dirty Man was still sleeping in yard."
"I will find out who did this and I will get even," Harry growled. "This is going to stop." He focused on Dobby once more. "Have you had a chance to go to Gringotts or book shopping yet?"
"Yous needed me, so Dobby came home. Dobby can be going for you now if yous wants."
"Please do, Dobby. I need to figure out exactly what I'm going to do and how I'm going to manage it without a wand. Dammit, I need a wand and I can't get one...Dammit, Dumbledore! I hate you!"

July 4th, The Burrow
"Okay, guys, Bill was nice enough to take me to Flourish & Botts and I have a list of spells that affect or alter memory, behaviour or inherited magical gifts." Unhappiness shone out starkly from the bushy haired witch's eyes. "I know I couldn't have found everything, even with Bill finding books for me. I still can't believe it's this long of a list..."
"You let Bill help you?" squawked Ron, eyes widening at the idea that his brother might report them to Dumbledore. "Hermione! He's an Order member..."
"I told him I was doing an extra credit report for Advanced Charms and that I had gotten the idea from Professor Moody's demonstrations last year in Defence Class. He seemed to think it was a good subject since the Ministry needs talented Obliviators." She shook her head miserably. "It's just horrible to do something like that to someone who hasn't done anything wrong..."
"It is the nature of humans to control the world around them, including their fellow man. Why should this surprise you?" Luna asked, eyes clear and curious.
"Because Hermione still believes that people are better than that." Ginny sat down beside the saddened witch and hugged her affectionately. "It's okay, 'Mione. Keep thinking that way as long as it doesn't blind you to the facts. Someone has to be the idealist in our crazy bunch and it might as well be you."
Sniffling a little, Hermione nodded and hugged the younger girl back with a grateful smile.
"Thanks, Ginny. I really needed a hug after looking through all of those books." She focused on Luna and grinned a little. "I know it shouldn't surprise me, Luna...it just...it's the fact that so many of these spells are dark or verging very close on it and someone has been using them on someone I care about."
"I'm not sure they're working so hot anymore," Neville mused thoughtfully. "Remember how angry Harry was last year? How oddly he was acting? C'mon, he fought off the Imperious cast by an Inner Circle Death Eater. I was impressed when I thought it was just cast by an Auror, but that made it even more impressive."
"So you think he's fighting the spells, right?" Ron considered that point, then nodded his agreement. "If you're right about the spells not working as well, it could mean that whoever cast them assumed they would hold, too. They may not have done anything to reinforce them. I mean, spells like this would only last so long before they will eventually need to be...recharged or something, right?"
Eyeing Ron like he was an amazing new species, Luna hummed her approval.
"It's possible, Ronald. Unfortunately, I don't think an Obliviate wears off."
"Then we all need to go see Healer Monroe, no doubt about it. I'm just worried that some of these spells may have been used on us, too," Ron stated.
"As much trouble as we all get into with Harry, I'd be shocked if we hadn't all been Obliviated at least once," Ginny grumbled under her breath.