Chapter 53: Who?
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 53: Who?
The final weeks of summer passed in a blur of chores and quiet frustration.
Harry woke each morning to the same routine: wash, dress, prepare breakfast, clean, and go back to sleep.
The feeling that he was forgetting something important never went away, and he no longer thought he was imagining things...something was wrong with his current life.
He hid the toy soldier beneath his mattress.
Harry was not sure why he did that...for some reason, he didn't believe that his aunt Bella would be happy if she found it, and he did not want to risk losing it.
He may not remember why, but he knew this little toy soldier was important to him.
Sometimes, late at night, he would take it out and hold it in his hands, trying to recall where it had come from, or who had given it to him.
But the memories never came.
There were no more visits, and he received no word from his friends...something that he found extremely weird, but at the very least, that was a mystery he would soon solve, because it was time to go back.
The day of his return to Hogwarts had arrived at last.
Harry packed his trunk with mechanical efficiency. His new robes and books were carefully stored. Aunt Bella watched him from the doorway to make sure he didn't miss anything, her thin lips pressed together in a tight line.
He had managed to sneak the small toy inside his robes without being spotted, as he didn't want to leave it here.
"Behave yourself," she said. "Don't cause any trouble. And don't embarrass me."
"Yes, Aunt Bella," Harry said, his voice flat.
He hauled his trunk to the front door, where Mr Black's sleek black car was waiting to take him to the station.
However, this time, it was a different driver.
A tall, elegant, clean-shaven man in his mid-thirties, with sharp eyes. He looked cold and professional and wore a fancy dark suit with a red tie.
The first impression he got from this man was very similar to the one from Mister Black. The main difference was the way they dressed.
They were both elegant, but while Mister Black dressed in classical wizard robes, this other man appeared to prefer a more muggle style of clothing.
Harry found that curious to say the least, and he wondered if the reason for the attire was because they had different kinds of jobs.
He did not know exactly what Mister Black did, and just assumed it was somehow related to the school, since he was the one chosen to accompany him on his shopping trip. However, he did notice another difference in this new person.
Harry noticed a shiny silver badge hanging from his jacket. He could not make up the name, but he did recognize the words "Auror Department" on the upper part of the badge.
'An auror?...why is an auror driving me to the station?' He was still a novice when it came to the magical world, but he did know that Aurors were basically the magical version of the police. And it didn't make much sense to him that such a figure of authority came to serve as his driver.
He was no one important and didn't need any sort of special protection...as far as he knew at least.
Harry climbed into the back seat and watched his aunt's house shrink in the window as the car pulled away.
The auror never told him his name, nor did he ask for his own, but Harry couldn't help but feel that he had seen him before.
No...he was sure he had seen him before. And not only that...this person made him very uneasy and scared for reasons he could not understand.
'Another thing to add to the list of weird stuff...' The pile was starting to get tall.
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King's Cross Station was crowded, as always.
The auror had only driven him to the entrance of the station and, after confirming that Harry knew how to access the Platform Nine and Three‑Quarters...he was sent on his own.
Harry pushed his trolley through the crowd of travellers, his eyes scanning the crowd for the barrier between platforms nine and ten.
He had done this before...he remembered that much, but the details, as usual, were hazy, as if he was following a script he had only half-learned.
He found the barrier, took a deep breath, and walked through.
Platform Nine and Three‑Quarters was bustling with students and families.
The scarlet Hogwarts Express stood waiting, steam hissing from its engine.
Harry felt a flicker of excitement...he was going back to school, back to magic, back to the world where he belonged.
And no more chores.
But even all that excitement was unable to mute the feeling of wrongness he had been experiencing for the entire summer.
He loaded his trunk onto the train and climbed aboard. The corridors were crowded, and he pushed through them, looking for an empty compartment.
As he was looking around, he accidentally collided with someone who had been standing in the middle of the corridor.
"Oi! What do you think you're doing?"
Harry turned and was about to apologize when he found Ron Weasley standing in front of him with his arms crossed and a sour expression on his face.
Behind him were two other boys that Harry vaguely recognized...Rivers and Runcorn.
"Where are you going, Potter." Ron said, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Sorry, I was just looking for somewhere to sit," Harry tried to calm the boy down.
But Ron's face only became more red. "Looking for your loser friends?. There are only two of them left, right?. After that traitor was taken out." He had an evil grin on his face as he spoke. "We'll see how many remain at the end of this year."
Harry simply stared at Ron with a look of confusion.
But after not getting the reaction he was expecting, Ron seemed to grow angrier.
"Want us to teach him a lesson?" Rivers was already holding his wand in his hand.
Harry became worried when he saw it. He wasn't even carrying his own wand to defend himself, as he had it stored in his handbag.
Ron smirked. "Maybe...maybe we shou-"
"Ron! Leave him alone!"
A girl pushed past Rivers, Runcorn and Ron, her long red hair flowing in the air.
She looked younger than Harry, so she was likely a first-year, and her face was flushed with embarrassment. But despite that, she glared at her brother with fierce determination.
"He didn't do anything wrong," she said. "Just leave him alone."
Ron opened his mouth to protest, but the girl had her eyes fixed on him. "I said leave him alone. Or I'll tell Mum that you are ruining our family reputation at Hogwarts."
Ron's face went red. He muttered something under his breath, then turned and stormed off, his cronies following close behind.
The girl turned to Harry, her expression softening into a small, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about him," she said. "He can be a real git sometimes."
Harry stared at her. The small girl had a bright pair of brown eyes and a cascade of red hair that fell past her shoulders. She was pretty, in a wholesome way.
And for just a moment, when he looked at her, he saw someone else.
A girl of the same age, but with short black hair instead. Her face overlapped with Ginny's, their features merging for a split second before separating again.
A name found its way to the front of his mind but was gone before he could grab hold of it...it started with the letter P.
Harry blinked...the vision was gone, and the redheaded girl was back.
"Are you okay?" the girl asked, her brow furrowed with concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Harry shook his head, trying to clear the fog. "I'm fine," he said. "Just… tired, I think."
The girl nodded, still looking concerned. "I'm Ginny, by the way. Ginny Weasley."
"Harry," he said. "Harry Potter."
Ginny's eyes widened. "Oh. You're… I've heard about you. I mean...my brother had mentioned your name a few times over the summer."
"Ah..." Harry could only imagine the kind of things Ron would have been saying about him.
Ginny fidgeted with her robes, clearly embarrassed. "Well, I should probably go. My friends are waiting." She paused, then added, "If Ron bothers you again, just let me know. I'll sort him out."
She hurried away, her red hair bouncing behind her.
Harry watched her go, his mind still churning. Not just because of his first meeting with Ron's little sister, but also because of that other girl he saw.
'Who was that?...and why did I see her when I looked at Ginny?'
He shook his head, trying to push the thought away.
He found another compartment further down the train and slid the door open.
Inside, three boys looked up at him. Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Blaise Zabini. They were all staring at him with expressions of shock.
"Harry," Draco said, his voice flat. "You finally made it."
"I was honestly starting to think that you weren't coming back," Crabbe added.
Harry stepped into the compartment, sliding the door shut behind him. "Sorry," he said. "I was held up. Ron Weasley tried to pick a fight."
Draco's expression darkened. "Weasley. That figures."
"But his sister seemed nice," Harry said, earning another shocked look from the three boys.
He sat down across from them, his eyes scanning their faces.
There was something off about the way they were looking at him.
Draco was the first to break the silence.
"So...what happened to you this summer?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral. "We wrote to you. Almost every week. And you never answered."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Our letters," Crabbe said, his voice low and serious. "We sent you letters. We never heard back."
Harry shook his head, his mind reeling. "I never received any letters. Not a single one."
Draco and Crabbe exchanged a glance.
Zabini leaned back in his seat, his eyes narrowed.
"That's impossible," Draco said. "I sent at least a dozen. My owls always returned empty-handed, so they must have delivered them."
"Unless they didn't," Crabbe said quietly. "Unless something stopped them."
"I don't understand," Harry said. "If you sent letters, why didn't I get them?"
Zabini spoke up, his voice calm and analytical. "If the owls returned, it means they thought they had completed their delivery. That would only happen if they were confused...if someone had placed a ward on the house that redirected them or made them think they had succeeded."
Harry's brow furrowed. "A ward? Who would do that?"
Draco hesitated, his jaw tight. "Someone powerful. Someone who didn't want you receiving our letters."
The implication hung in the air, heavy and unspoken.
Harry felt a chill run down his spine. He thought of Aunt Bella, her cold eyes, her tight control over his life. He thought of the fog in his head, the gaps in his memory.
'What is happening to me?' he wondered. 'Did they do something to me?'
But he couldn't ask the question aloud. He was afraid of the answer.
After a long, awkward silence, Harry spoke again. "Can you tell me what the letters were about? I had a very boring summer...stuck at my aunt's house, doing chores. I could use the distraction."
Draco nodded slowly, his expression softening. "Most of them were just casual stuff. Just asking how your summer was going. I told you about my father's business trips, and Crabbe sent you a treacle tart he made himself."
Crabbe nodded, a rare glimmer of hurt in his eyes. "I was sad you never got it. I worked hard on that tart."
Harry felt a pang of guilt, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wish I had received it."
Draco's expression grew more serious. "My last letter was different, though. I was trying to tell you something important."
Harry leaned forward. "What was it?"
Draco glanced at Crabbe and Zabini, then back at Harry. "One of my father's contacts at the Ministry managed to confirm something. About Pansy. They confirmed to us that she is being held in a facility dedicated to mind manipulation and re-education. It forms part of the Department of Mysteries."
Harry blinked. "Wait, hold on...what are you talking about?"
"What do you mean?" Draco sounded confused. "We talked about this last year. I told you that my father had some contacts th-"
" No, not that." Harry interrupted him. "I mean...who is Pansy?"
There was a long silence after that.
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